#I miss the mountains and the rain and the nature and the trees

[i-want-to-be-spaghettified]

i’m already homesick and I haven’t even left yet

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[shellshocklove]

does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, ��How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.  

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”  

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[vnards]

>dinner's ready!

Price was grumpy. There was a tightness in his shoulders he couldn’t release and it had been driving him mad. He was at work, taking his 7th lap of the forest today, trying to run off his extra energy. But no matter how hard he tries, there’s been a smell in his nose. As he makes his way back to the ranger’s station, a grumble emits from him unknowingly.

Ever since his last visit to the store, there’s been this itch under his nails and a tension in his neck that just wouldn’t go away. Nothing he does gets his mind off you. Off your smell. “Dammit.” Price grumbles under his breath and leans back in his chair, wiping his eyes, as if he can make everything go away.

There’s footsteps outside the ranger station that catches his ear and a quick glance at the clock makes him sigh in relief. Marcus walks in, throwing a polite smile John’s way as he heads towards the back, getting ready for his own shift.

John couldn’t be more grateful to be able to get out of here. He quickly starts shutting down his things and begins packing. “Long day?” Marcus asks as he comes from the back of the station.

He grunted in response, “It was fine.” He quickly dismisses.

He hears a pause come from Marcus for a moment. Damned humans and their stupid social rules.

The former military captain tries again, remembering he only got the job because of Marcus’ good nature. He clears his throat again, “I think I may be coming down with something.” He says instead.

“Yea,” Marcus starts, “It usually takes a while to get used to the mountain air.” John falsely agrees, simply wanting to get out from under scrutiny and judgement. “Maybe you should take the weekend off.” He suggests.

That gives Price pause for a moment. He doesn’t want to misuse any good graces with Marcus, but with the coming winter, he would not look a gifted horse in the mouth. “I can still come in on Sunday,” He offered.

Marcus thought it over for a moment, “Yea, that sounds pretty good.”

Price smiled politely, a renewed vigor gave him enough momentum to grab his stuff and head out.

…

Price lumbered around the forest aimlessly. The sky was a light grey, but despite that, the trees gave an enchanting look and feel. He was in his bear form, finally able to stretch his legs and enjoy the mountains in which he resided in. He hasn’t had the chance ever since he’s moved to the area and the serenity he feels makes him feel truly at home.

No orders to give. No gunfire raining over him. No crushing weight on his shoulders. He can meander as slow as he wants. Scratch his back for as long as he wants. Even pick the berries without a care in the world.

There were a few hikers out in the late afternoon. Probably coming from work. Families with their dogs mostly. Everyone gave him a wide berth, some taking pictures, but most too scared to move until he’s ambled his way further. He’s not out to scare anybody so he leaves them alone.

Until that smell.

The bear sniffed the air again. Certain of the familiar scent. A pleased rumble began in his chest, heading a direction further into the woods and closer to the river.

Price didn’t even realize that he had changed directions. Simply moving as his bear asked without question. It wasn’t until he got closer that he came to and realized something was off.

Your smell got stronger. The hints of a floral and rich scent beckoning him. And Price followed.

John was able to take in your scent fully with his nose this time and it was even better than the last. Honey. You smelled like fresh honey mixed with a salty air and a floral scent. Bodywash, maybe. He was so distracted, he missed another scent in the air.

He traveled for about half a mile, paying no mind to the other hikers that had spotted him. The rushing of the river began a craving for fish. Price thought he saw salmon on one of his routes. As the clearing came up, there you were.

Sitting at the edge of the river, squatting to look under the water was you. You were out hiking it seemed, your backpack too light for anything else. John watched you in silence. It seemed the tranquility of the forest extended even to you. Almost adding to its beauty.

You threw you head back and gave a hearty laugh. What a wonderful sound it was. The trance Price basked in was interrupted by a stranger.

A man, walking closer to you from behind. He was about the same height as John, but not nearly as muscled or big. Not nearly as strong as Price. He was on the younger side, but still a threat nonetheless. The bear readied his stance, ready to intervene at a moments notice, when you turned your head and spoke to the man. You knew each other. And by the way the man put his hand on your back and sat next to you, it seemed you knew each other better than just friends.

Price had to focus on staying hidden in the trees. Watching. Observing. Calculating his next move.

He could shift back and approach the “couple,” giving some bullshit excuse for interrupting them. Maybe you’ll pick me over him. The thought pleased him, but no. That wouldn’t be enough. You were too smart to believe anything he’d come up with.

His mind ran a mile a minute, trying to figure out what to do. He could leave. Neither of you had spotted him, his fur helping him blend into the foliage, keeping him concealed. And as the two of you sat on the edge of the river, looking over the horizon, none the wiser, the stranger said something that caught your attention. Price got down lower, his years of stealth being an innate skill drilled in his bones.

Your voices were too soft for him to hear. But as the man touched the soft skin on your cheek and leaned in carefully, the bear roared, an anger carrying Price forward into the clearing and disturbing you both.

“Oh shit!” The man was on his feet in an instant, spotting the bear immediately. The look of confusion on your face was adorable. But the pure fear that replaced it tightened something in his chest. The big, bad bear had made himself known and there was no going back. So Price led into it with full force.

He raised onto his hind legs to his full height, his eyes never leaving the man that dare touch what’s his. The frustrations from the last few days came forth. The itch for violence that was always under his skin reaching a tipping point that he released in a bellow.

The call of the wild.

It didn’t take the man long to get to his feet and start running the other direction. He hadn’t even looked back to see if you would follow. A coward. He sneered.

Staying still under the scrutiny of a beast like him, you were too stunned to move. The pure fear in your eye was enough to tell Price everything he needed to know. You were smart not to run in front of a wild creature.

As the coward continued to run, further than necessary, Price might add, and once the threat was deemed safe enough, the bear dropped back on all fours. He let out a chuff of annoyance as his attention turned back to you as a sniffle caught his attention.

Price wasn’t close, but he could still see the tears growing along your tear line, threatening to fall. John almost felt bad about scaring you the way he did, but he knew there was no point fighting instinct.

So instead, he laid down on all fours, his arms and leg splayed out under him and put his chin on the ground. He hoped you knew what he was trying to do, look as non-threatening as possible. That was his mission.

You stood up on shaky legs, unsure of what to do with this strange bear’s behavior. You’ve of course have had tips you’ve picked up over the years on what to do when you encounter wild animals in these mountains, but the blood coursing through your veins wipes away any memory of them.

But…there’s something different about this bear. You can’t put your finger on it, but you trust your intuition and you get a burst of courage.

Price has to focus on staying still, but he can’t deny the burst of excitement in his stomach as you take careful steps closer. His eyes never leave you, watching your confidence grow with every step as you come closer to him.

Mission successful.  

Something speaks to you. You’re unable to tell what has come over you. Walking up to a wild bear after being abandoned by Tim. There’s a flame of anger that begins to start, leaving you like that, but you tamp it down in favor to focus on the wild bear in front of you.

The bear chuffs again, it doesn’t sound threatening, but you stop anyway. What you are you thinking!? There’s still a possibility of being mauled by a bear out in the middle of the mountains because you walked up to it? The thought doesn’t get any less crazy.

You’re about to turn back around when you examine the bear again. He hasn’t moved. Staying still as you approached him. It’s like he knows. You can see it in his eyes, something human about them. You finish crossing the distance to the bear, close enough to touch.

Price makes sure to not make any sudden movements, but he does lift his head up closer to you, seeing if he can get lucky twice. At his insistence, you finally reach your hand out to him, close enough to gently pet his head.

Price was in heaven.

Your hands are soft against his skin. Softer than his fur even. Gentle. John knew you’d have a gentle hand. A pleased rumble starting in his chest. Something he hasn’t done in years and it feels good. It feels great.

“You’re not so scary, huh?” You giggle lightly, your nerves settled after the adrenaline wore off.

Never for you.

You get a burst of courage and reach a little further, reaching behind the bear’s ears. Price melted.

He wanted more. He needed more.

He tilted his head to the side to allow you more access behind his ears. He can’t think of the last time someone showed him so pleasantly. The bear leaned over completely, laying on his side and showing you his belly as you make sure to show the other ear as much attention as the first. So thorough. Such a good girl. The pleased rumbles grow louder.

A flick of the bear’s ear causes him pause and suddenly sits up. You are able to move out of the way and step back, remembering you don’t have any protection on you incase this bear changes it’s mind. But he had other concerns.

The sound of a truck rumbling through the trees on the ranger’s path he took many times that day. How could John forget the protocol for spotting large animals? He’s never been so reckless before.

A new tension replaced your fear, concern as the truck came in sight. “Go,” you told the bear, “they might hurt you. Shoo, shoo.”

No one has never shooed away John Price before. He knew the protocol for a sighting and Marcus wouldn’t shoot him unless it was a last resort, but who was he to deny an order from his pretty little bird? He raised up, shaking his fur a bit of any debris and sticks he accumulated. He checked on you one more time. Your hands were still shaking, maybe from adrenaline, maybe from fear, but you looked more stable. Better. “Go,” you insisted again.

He chuffed again, but followed your orders. As Price worked to blend back into the words, he knew one thing for certain.

He will never let you go.

-been thinking if it would be easier to set up all my works in one place if it'd be helpful?

(edit: I did it -> list)

[last-starry-sky]

put your ear to my heart // or set your teeth against my throat

shifter/monster!price x f!reader (this was written for @the-californicationist's nameless challenge, so he isn't named, but Price was def. my inspiration!)

[NSFW - MDNI - MIND THE WARNINGS: ~1k, mentions of murder, blood and gore, minor character death (reader’s bf), pet names, implied abuse of power, kidnapping, monster fucking (extra hair, claws, and teeth mentioned but nothing specific), unprotected piv sex, biting, crying, noncon/dubcon, mating press, cumming inside, unsanitary sex? (idk what to say here lmao), breeding kink (mentions of rutting and pregnancy), fingering, oral.]

Something lives in these woods.

A shapeshifter. A monster. Something you should stay away from. It lurks in those hills. Made a home somewhere in those thousands of dense trees in the forest around the mountain. This place has been it’s home for ages longer than this area has been a national park, you see. 

It belongs to him. Not to you.

It doesn’t mind making one or two of those asshole "campers" or "hikers" disappear when they wander into his home, disrespecting his land either. This thing, it’s careful too. Nothing like how an animal would kill. Too smart. Too clean. Something that leaves nothing behind but an abandoned campsite. A smear of blood on a tree. A forgotten boot in a stream. A missing persons report growing colder by the year.

You don’t have to worry though, miss. You seem nice enough. You take only photographs, leave only footprints when you visit. Every single time. You stupid, silly thing. I guess it’s for the best that the loud, stupid man that you brought with you - he was your boyfriend, you said? shame - never came back from taking a piss in the middle of the night. 

See, he didn’t follow the rules. Put out the fire. Stay on the trails. Never go anywhere alone. He didn’t care to learn that they weren’t your rules. They’re his rules, and now it’s too late for him.

It’s okay, little lady. I know you’re scared. It’s only natural when things like this happen in the dead of night! So how about you pack up your backpack and I give you a ride to the nearest ranger station? Doesn’t that sound like a good idea? It’s about to get awfully cold, and with your friend - sorry, boyfriend - missing, I can’t leave you alone out here. 

The cabin is nice and cozy. I know you’ll like it. I’ll radio in the missing person - never mind that it’s supposed to piss rain for the next few days. The search team will never find what’s left of the body - and make you some hot cocoa. Strip down, let your soaked clothes dry by the fire, then you can curl up in my bed, sleep off this whole terrible situation. 

Shame how those two people went missing last summer. That couple, remember? They found the guy a couple miles from the campsite I heard. Nasty stuff. Probably a grizzly or wolf from the damage. The rangers didn’t have much to show the cops by the time they were able to get there. Shit like this always happens right before the worst fucking weather, I swear. It was enough for a death certificate at least. The poor girl was never found, though. Heard she was a pretty experienced hiker. Loved that park, too. I sure hope they find her one day, even just to give her parents closure.  

Meanwhile; you, miss missing person, are curled up safely in the strong, hairy arms of the thing that took rescued you that night. He covers you in flannel and furs, with enough wood next to the fire to keep it going through the night. No need for you to even think of leaving his hidden little love nest. He likes to hold you, your naked bodies twined together. He pets your hair and whispers sweet nothings about how perfect you are, how lucky he is, while you sleep curled into his chest.

His claws and canines emerge unintentionally at the thought of your shit-bag dead boyfriend. The thought of anyone besides him ever having you, of taking you away from him, it makes him see red. Makes him want to howl at the moon.

Don’t worry though, pet. He’ll slake the worst of his bestial need far away from you. Tear into some flesh, drink their warm blood. Their dying screams a background hum to the pounding in his ears. 

You enjoy seeing him after a kill. He’ll return to you: sauntering up bold and naked, hair matted to his body with sweat and gore, mud spattered up to his thighs. He’s still in the in-between: thick body-hair not yet all the way receded, claws clacking the wood floor, mouth full of long, sharp teeth. 

How sweet it is when you wipe their unworthy blood from his mouth before you tiptoe up to kiss him. 

You act so gentle then, but he knows you’ll keen and cry for him to take you harder. Let his claws dent your soft flesh. Leave love bites, wet and red, down your neck. So open and soft and destructible for him. He loves to tear into you, cock pounding you speechless. Sometimes you cry, wet rivers running down your flushed cheeks, breathlessly begging too much. Your cunt doesn’t lie though. You’ve been soaked from the very beginning, only getting wetter once he pushed your legs to your chest to rail you into the bed. He’ll cum with a long, low growl, nuzzled into your neck. His cock emptying against your cervix. 

Blood, mud, cum, sweat, rain, slick. It coats his happy trail, hair painting your belly as he fucks you. He loves seeing the mess he makes of you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open, as he watches his cum ooze from his woman’s raw hole. Fuck he can’t wait to breed you. Come fall his rut will hit with those first long, cool nights and then you’ll be his. Permanently his. He’ll watch you grow round and ripe day by day, his little monster inside you, as you tuck in for the winter. 

For now, though, he’ll have to be content with fingering your ruined pussy open. His tongue lapping over your neglected clit, sucking at you slowly until you quiver beneath him. You try to push him away, but he won’t move until he gets his fill. He’ll grunt, ignoring you to focus on slurping every bit of sweetness from your folds, leaving you clean and perfect once again. 

He may be an animal in the shape of a man. He maims and murders. He kidnapped you, forced you to live this life. He never gave you a choice. Never will. But he will always eat you out until you’re shaking, crying out his name into the night air. You’ll always look at him so softly after, patting his cheek or ruffling his hair, as he catches his breath against your belly. It doesn’t matter how rough he was, how much blood is caked in his hair or mud there is underneath his nails. Right now, laying together sweating, panting like dogs: he is yours and you are his.

He’ll silently pull you to curl up in bed with him. Just like he always does. And you’ll fall into the warmth of his body, like you always do. Caressing your body, running his fingers through your hair. You sigh and sound so at peace. It makes him wonder if you would leave if you had the chance. Maybe, just maybe, this is right where you always wanted to be.

a/n: i SWEAR i was just trying to get back into the groove of writing daily, just wanted to jot this idea down in my random ideas doc, and this happened :x thank you very much to @gemmahale for linking me to the challenge! I hope you all enjoy and have fun guessing the entries!

The title is from the song “the garden” by the crane wives.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hi! i’d like to ask for Wukong and Macaque (separate) with a short, chubby, gardener reader if you haven’t done that already! Like maybe reader could be growing a peach or plum tree and the boys come by for some!

Hi anon! I love this idea and I hope you like it!!

Wukong and Macaque (separate) with a short, chubby, gardener reader

Sun Wukong

The moment he hears that not only is his crush a gardener and very in tune with nature but loves growing peach trees and is a close friend of MKs…yeah he’s already on his way over there. He tries his best not to overwhelm you with his energy and politely asks for a peach, unable to hide the way his tail excitedly wagged and the genuine grin that crept up on his face when you said for him to take his pick.

You weren’t that far from the harbor or the city so it wasn’t out of his way and found himself visiting you every day, getting more familiar with you and eventually getting the invite from you to come and go as he pleased (as long as he didn’t do anything stupid which you did further clarify when he asked you to be specific due to past….events). Assuring him that he’d have to screw up pretty bad you to ban him from your life and offering to have lunch with him which he happily accepted, talking about your daily life and how different his was on Flower Fruit Mountain.

One day you woke up late to knocking on your door as thunder roared outside your house, thinking nothing of it as you covered your head with the comforter before hearing your front door open as rain pelted on your wood floors and shot up with a bat you always kept beside you in your hands. In front of you, you saw the Great Sage Equal to Heaven dripping wet from the storm holding an armful of peaches with a concerned expression quickly replaced with one of relief and humor.

Wukong explained that on his way over here it started thundering quite badly and swept up some of the peaches that had fallen on the ground (still edible but just shaken off from the wind), concerned about how you were holding up since the weather was more equivalent to a hurricane than a storm and figured he’d spend the time at your place until the storm was over. You of course were now concerned for his family back on the mountain to which his reply was they were all safely in Water Curtain Cave and that he figured spending some time baking with the peaches he’d gathered would be fun, secretly very touched when you’d expressed concern for his brothers and sisters and also how adorable you looked shocked awake with your hair scattered everywhere.

Six-Eared Macaque

He was just walking around one day and smelled something good, stumbling upon your orchard and seeing a variety of fruit trees; his eye spotted a couple of plum and mango trees in the corner of the field. As he was making his way over, he saw you in another row of trees picking fruit to put in your basket and paid you no mind, you were just some simple human.

He jumped onto a branch upon seeing a ripe-looking plum and going to take a bite after rubbing it on his sleeve when he heard you yell at him, looking down to see you looking both confused and annoyed at him. Hearing you reasonably get mad at him for eating the stuff you use to make a living and he sassily responds that one plum missing won’t ruin your life to which you flip him and yell at him to fuck himself…To which he could go away but where’s the fun in that when he found someone so interesting?

You see him every. single. day. after that first interaction and every time you interact, it’s the same old song and dance with him giving you a sassy remark and you telling him to fuck off. But each time you both get closer and become more friends than the tolerable asshole I interact with, eventually you both get to look forward to your meetings and ask how the other’s day was (learning the actual names of one another). One day though is different from the rest.

It was nearing sunset and you were at the back of your orchard, picking ripened fruit for the market tomorrow and putting broken or torn fruit in a bin for compost (definitely not picking some savory fruits for the shadow demon basically living with you) when you heard a branch snap in the thick forest nearby with growling not shortly after.

You nearly dropped the basket you were holding and backed away from the mother bear with her cubs moving closer to you, the small furred cubs eating scarred apples and mangos that had already gone to insects, and nearly jumped at you before someone got in front of you. Macaque now stood in front of you with a pointed bo staff made of a swirling black shadow-like material and eyes glowing violet as he bared his teeth, a low growl building in the back of his throat and poison dripping from his words. “Go.”

That was all it took for them to run, scurrying back into the forest and leaving the two of you alone with adrenaline still coursing through you. Both of you made it back to your house with some fruit, the shadow demon lightly joked about how he might as well just start living with you if these things keep happening, and you said he was more than welcome to.

Yeah, that was all it took for both of you to become roommates with more mornings filled with tangled limbs (Macaque seeking you out for both warmth and comfort) and you both playfully flirt with each other, baking and keeping each other company at the marker when you have to leave.

[mfrance-writes]

Helene Updates: People Don't Know What's Going on in East Tennessee.

I live in East Tennessee. The things that are going on here apparently haven't been reported on very well as we've been dealing with the effects of Helene. People in this same area just an hour to a couple of hours away don't even know what's going on over here.

The area of East Tennessee that I live in is close enough to Asheville that we can pop over to go to the farmers market or pop over for a nice dinner without really thinking about it. We have three rivers in my area: The Pigeon River, the French Broad River, and the Little Pigeon River. The Nolichucky River isn't in my county, but it is close enough to affect the area where I live. These rivers have not flooded in my lifetime or my parents' lifetime.

We are not an area that has EVER experienced more than a small rise in river levels that usually quickly recedes before the flash floods actually occur. We were told that we should prepare for rain to move in by Thursday and then wind to come with more rain on Friday that may disrupt power due to downed trees. There was the possibility of a flash flood in some areas, but overall we weren't told that we needed to be extremely concerned about Helene in my area. (I mean, we're in the Smokey Mountains, in a land-locked state.)

On Friday, we woke up expecting it to be rainy and windy. What we got was news that Waterville Dam and Lake Lure Dam in North Carolina had failed or been severely breached. Later that night, the Nolichucky Dam in Tennessee was breached and expected to catastrophically fail. As a result, the Pigeon River, the French Broad River, the Little Pigeon, and the Nolichucky River all rose to levels that we haven't seen since the late 1800s and the early 1900s.

We were prepared for SOME bad weather...power outages, travel delays because of downed trees or power lines. We were not prepared for something that has never happened here before. How can you prepare for something that has never happened that nobody knew we should be expecting?

We were not prepared for the rivers to break records from over 100 years ago. We were not prepared for the dams to breach and/or fail. We were not prepared for a mass flooding event that made the central area of our town grind to a halt as the first (and sometimes second) floors of essential businesses were submerged in flood waters. We were not prepared for the evacuation orders because we have never experienced evacuations on such a large scale before. This is an event that has never happened in my area.

We are in a State of Emergency. We are waiting for natural disaster relief. People have died, and more are still missing in the more rural areas. Entire homes, farms, businesses have been lost. We do not have water, and there is no timeline for when we can expect that to be fixed. Many people are still without power, and in the more rural areas, the linemen can't get to them to run new power lines without the help of other agencies. Many people still do not have cell and internet service back up and running. The post office is not operational, and the mail is not running. Updates from the Mayor via Facebook Live is the way we're getting most of our information.

I went into the office (because the courts in surrounding counties are still up and running and we have to prep for that), and the area where the law office is located is closed to the public. Helicopters and sirens are an ever-present sound as searches are being conducted. It looks like some kind of post-apocalyptic movie scene, and it kind of feels like one, too.

And the people around us (except for North Carolina, which was totally devastated) don't seem to know that's what we're dealing with for some reason. The sheer number of people I talked to today that are from as close as an hour away that have no idea we're in a State of Emergency is baffling. Literally, people called asking for consults, office appointments, letting us know they were mailing things in, asking if we could hurry and file things... Then when I have to tell them that we're in a State of Emergency, they're shocked because they "had no idea it was that bad."

At the time of posting, I have also only seen (maybe) two news cameras in the area since Saturday. (More may have come via helicopter for aerial footage.)

[giggly-squiggily]

hii! I have a request for your event ❤️ I came across this headcanon about Muichiro ~ sometimes when he sees his reflection, he gets sad or upset because the image reminds him of his deceased twin... like his other half is missing from his life 🥺 but luckily Kagaya and Amane are there to brighten his mood with some tickles! Trust that his adoptive parents will always keep a watch over him 🙏

Thank you for considering my request! I hope you're having a good day or night!

(Headcanons to Dabbles: OFFICIALLY CLOSED)

Oh this one HURT! But like- who doesn't love some angst in the afternoon! :D No seriously, this was fantastic for a headcanon, and I adore Kagaya and Amane being foster parents to him cause Muichiro deserves it! I've gotcha covered!

CW: Angst. Hurt/comfort, Character death mentioned.

He hated mirrors.

He hated how wherever he looked into them, he only saw Yuichiro. He saw his twin’s eyes, his nose, the almost permanent frown on his lips that shook with refrained tears. He hated that he couldn’t see his brother smiling back at him. Even when he tried to, it looked as broken as he felt.

Muichiro wanted to shatter the mirror. He turned away instead.

“Tokito? Come, join me.” Kagaya’s soothing voice stopped him in his tracks. “If you have the time, of course.”

“Always, Master.” He nodded, his feet carrying him where his heart hesitated. Soon he was sitting beside the older man, looking out at the courtyard. It was a lovely sight- a landscape of trees and greenery and birds chirping in the wind.

Yuichiro would like this.

Any comfort he had faded near instantly.

“Your mind is elsewhere. Do you wish to share?” At Kagaya’s gentle prompting, Muichiro found himself speaking. He told him about Yuichiro, about how his family lived in the mountains. He told him of the winters they’d all survived beneath several blankets, and how in summer he and his twin would go swimming in the stream to cool down. He told him of his parents demise- and how it stole away his brother’s youthful nature. He told him of their fight, and eventually, their end.

When he finished speaking, his eyes were wet, and he found both his hands were taken. One in Kagaya’s, and one in Amane’s. No words were needed, and he didn’t know if he could find them anyway. Instead, he squeezed them both back tightly. “I erm…thanks for listening to me.”

“But of course. You’re one of our children. We’ll always listen to you when you need to talk.” Kagaya smiled gently at him- the gesture making him want to cry all over again.

“Now now, no more tears.” Amane spoke softly from behind, her fingers tapping into his sides and making him giggle. “A heart needs sunshine after such rain. Wouldn’t you agree, my love?”

“Oh but of course. You’ve taught me that all too well.” He turned to the pair, smiling as Muichiro snickered and squirmed in her arms. “Hold him for me, love?”

“But of course.”

“Nohohoho! Nohooht twohohooho of yohohohou!” Muichiro cackled as his sides and stomach were prodded at, torn between curling up in a ball and rolling away. In the end, he just kinda took it, curling his hands into fists beneath his sleeves as he laughed.

At some point, he swore Kagaya and Amane looked like his parents. Another point, he saw Yuichiro. They were smiling at him, just like before.

He felt that comforting feeling from before seep back in, this time to stay.

[rinfarts]

As you know, 2024 will be the Year of the Dragon according to the eastern horoscope. This beast is noble and powerful, inspiring awe. Blank doesn’t particularly inspire anything other than a good mood, but, as Taranee would say: “there are also small dragons.”

(English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes. Please be understanding)

This costume and the image itself are taken from a series with the play (“Ambush at Torus Filne”). In it we learn about how the crystal appeared, giving the guards strength. The legend of compassionate dragons who relieved people from drought overlaps markedly with another legend. From Earth.

"The Jade Emperor Yu-di organized a race among the animals to determine the order of the zodiac signs. Such a powerful and energetic beast as the Dragon had every chance of becoming the first. But when he was close to the finish line, he saw a village that was suffering from drought. He flew over clouds and caused rain to help starving people.

The dragon continued on his way, but saw another village - it was threatened by flooding. He took pity on the residents, swallowed the water and only then continued on his way.

Just before the finish line, the Dragon saw that the Rabbit was being chased by the Wolf. To save the Rabbit, the Dragon let him go ahead. And so it happened that the strong and powerful creature finished fifth in the race, after the Rat, Ox, Tiger and Rabbit."

In the "W.I.T.C.H" version, four dragons representing the elements were imprisoned in the mountains because they dared to help people without asking permission from their Emperor. It turns out that in both legends the Dragon suffered from his own kindness?

This is partly true. And in fact, this is not the worst moral, although at first glance it does not seem so. By helping someone, you may actually miss an opportunity or get into trouble. No matter how much we wish that life would encourage noble deeds more.

But altruism should not be idealized. There's nothing wrong with being aware of the risks. Belief in a “just world”, where everyone is rewarded according to their actions, very often leads to disappointment and the thought “if something bad happened to me, I probably wasn’t good enough.” And to devaluing other people's troubles.

There is no kind of universal justice in the world and no clearly working karmic slaps on the head. However, there are other people, good and not so good. What you do may resonate with them. For example, a good deed performed in spite of any difficulties. And then real magic can happen, accessible even beyond the boundaries of legends.

I sincerely wish you to find a common language with yourself, to love yourself (within adequate limits). Find a solid foundation of confidence under your feet. And then no difficulties in life will become insurmountable for you.

If after this you find the strength and time to support other people, to inspire them with your example is wonderful. If not, this will not make you a bad person. Healthy selfishness is a wonderful thing. And good deeds should not be forced. __________________________

In addition to references to the symbol of the year, the art contains intersections with a recent answer in the ask. Anyone who read the accompanying post knows.

Caleb, one might say, is preparing a festive buffet. But the bull doesn't really want to be the main dish :D

I have long been attracted to garlands with dried orange slices. They are so warm and cozy. I wanted to add them to at least one of the New Year's arts :3

This idea later developed into the concept of natural Christmas tree decorations. Still, the Middle Ages reign on Meridian. It is unlikely that there is such an abundance of plastic toys there as we have now (the main thing is not to wonder whether there are citrus fruits in this fictional world).

But I still added a garland and balloons, I couldn’t resist. Maybe the girls brought it from Earth (making sure that everything would run on batteries) :D

HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

[ghouletteanon]

Mushy May: Day 6 - Picnic/Snow day

Mushy May day 6 is here! Prompt list can be found here, curated by the magnificent @forlorn-crows .

Characters: Sunshine & Mountain

Summary: Sunshine keeps Mountain company as he hibernates.

Word count: 626

Rating: Gen

The earth ghoul quarters are cool and dark when Sunshine pushes the door open with her hip, her hands full. The curtains cover the windows, the only light in the room is a night light next to the door that Aether had installed when Sunshine had jokingly complained about stumbling around in the darkness.

“Hey Mounty,” Sunshine greets the earth ghoul, laying curled up in his bed. Mountain is barely visible underneath the pile of pillows and blankets that the other ghouls have provided. The whole pack had come together and made sure Mountain was as comfortable as possible, even if Mountain had at first protested. Aether had assured Sunshine that he did this every year and not to listen to him. Sunshine leans in and kisses Mountain between the horns before she heaves up the basket on the bed. “I brought snacks this time. I made sandwiches and got an apple from your favorite apple tree. You’d be proud, I even have tea! It’s like a picnic in a way.”

The large earth ghoul does not reply, but Sunshine does not mind as she continues to putter on and take out the tea thermos and assortment of snacks out of the basket. The room was kept cold, the hearth in Mountain’s quarters staying unlit all winter as Mountain hibernated just like nature outside the thick walls of the Abbey.

“It started to snow today! I wish you would have been awake for it. Have you ever seen snow?” Sunshine continues, pouring a mug of tea for herself and adding a generous amount of honey to it. Honey always made her think of Mountain, who had shown her the hives not long after she had been summoned after she had asked why he called her honey.

“The bees work hard so the Abbey has sunshine even during the darkest months of the year. Honey is like bottled sunshine, and sweet just like you are.”

“Copia declared it a snow day so there were no boring services or rituals. We had to look after the grounds today and all the fire ghouls were busy making sure the Abbey was warm. I built a snowman with Dew. Rain and the water ghouls are making ice lanterns tonight. Cirrus said it will look really pretty tomorrow night.”

“I miss hearing you talk, Mounty. You always have something smart to say. You’d probably say I need to eat more vegetables and that no matter what Dew says pizza does not count as a vegetable. It’s not the same without you,” Sunshine confesses, taking a sip of the hot tea. She curls up on the bed next to Mountain. She did not hibernate like Mountain, but her earth affinity causes her to sleep more than the others save for Swiss who was feeling the effects just like her. They took turns spending the night with Mountain, even if he would not know they had been there. It was for Mountain’s benefit just as much as it was for Swiss’ and Sunshine’s. “Swiss said you mumbled in your sleep last night. I hope I’ll hear it too.”

Tea mug empty, sandwiches eaten and with Sunshine feeling the drowsiness that the cold weather brought out in her, she puts away the dishes back in the basket and closes the door, shutting out the light from the corridor. She pulls up the covers and rolls up right next to Mountain in the nest. Mountain instinctively holds her closer as Sunshine tugs his arm around her, just so she can be the little spoon. She covers them both with a blanket, the chill of the room a little bit more tolerable now. 

Sunshine whispers “Good night, Mounty,” as the earth ghoul’s slow breaths lulls her asleep.

[richincolor]

Nature and Young Adult Lit

This may be a strange slightly rambling post, but one thing led to another. As I bicycle to work each day, there are several oak trees to pass which means that lately there are many, many acorns to dodge. Recently on Threads, author Jen Ferguson [Those Pink Mountain Nights] mentioned having a load of acorns raining down on the roof. This got me thinking about the chapter in Braiding Sweetgrass when the author's grandfather gathers up pecans during a year with an extraordinarily large crop. That story is a good one and may be found here. From there I leapt to thinking about nature and young adult lit because that's what my brain does.

Obviously, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer and Monique Gray Smith was the first young adult book that came to mind. It's a beautiful memoir with a look at Indigenous science and the natural world. The illustrations by Nicole Neidhardt are fantastic and make it an excellent book to pour over. See our review here.

This led me to thinking about Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley. In it, the main character has learned about nature through Indigenous teachings, but also through schooling and texts. There were parallels between Kimmerer's lived experience and the fictional account of Daunis. You can learn more about the book in our Group Discussion.

Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert is a book that that involves the outdoors and romance. We had a Group Discussion for this one too. In that discussion, Jessica mentioned Alexis Nicole Nelson, also known as The Black Forager. Looking at the acorns around me I wondered if she had done a video about them and yup, that is a thing she's collected and talked about. I don't know if she will be writing a book for young adults anytime soon, but for now, there is an incredible amount of video content on Tiktok, Instagram, and YouTube including the relatively new Crash Course Botany class.

Reflecting on nature, there is an awful lot of things that can go wrong so there are also quite a few dystopian and sci-fi books that are concerned with the environment, disasters, and climate change.

The Parable of the Sower: A Graphic Novel Adaptation is based on Octavia E. Butler’s novel of the same name and is by Damian Duffy and John Jennings. The story follows a young girl as she navigates a world that is in severe distress. She is not only trying to survive, but she is contemplating faith and what it means to her and what it could look like for others.

The Ones We're Meant to Find by Joan He is another survival type of story in the midst of natural disasters due to climate change. The story revolves around two sisters.

Want by Cindy Pon really digs into the economic disparities in relation to climate change and environmental issues. It's set in Taipei not too far in the future. You can read more about this awesome book in our Group Discussion.

Orleans by Sherrie L. Smith is an older title, but also delves into some of these issues of the environment and economic disparities. Here is our review.

Are there other books about nature and the environment that you think we've missed or should watch for in the future?

[blackestnight]

ttrpg directory 2024

it's been a hot minute since i made a round-up of my blorbos, so have an updated roster below the cut!

pathfinder (2e)

electra godstongue (elf aasimar oracle of flames): her four-year-long campaign finally wrapped up, so my baby girl has gone into...retirement? LOL, no. she's got a backlog of resurrection rituals she promised, plus she needs to pester the gods until they help her undo yet more of aroden's bullshit. plus she and the gang might get back together to go beat up an immortal dryad living in absalom for stealing the sun from the darklands. might fuck around and attain godhood while she's at it? i mean, the starstone would be right there.

god, having a level 20 character is nutty. you can just say things like that! and be serious!

two-feet "tufi" stalks in dappled leaves (elf animal instinct barbarian): a PC for a homebrew campaign. she is also, somehow, part of a traveling circus, which is only slightly more bonkers than her previous occupation, which was "feral child living with a pack of mountain lions." she doesn't believe in shoes or weapons—that's what her teeth are for. she's currently on her way to rescue a dragon from...a cult or something. she stopped paying attention halfway through the mission briefing.

nordylva "nori" rook (elf commander): not related to that new veilguard game. nori is a veteran of lastwall, and my PC for a kingmaker campaign! she escaped lastwall with her unit and several civilians when tar-baphon returned, only to be caught and mauled by a pack of werewolves in the virlych region of ustalav. her tragic backstory is fully narrated here. currently she's mapping a region of the Stolen Lands under a charter from brevoy, accompanied by a party of monster hunters...none of whom know that she's a werewolf. with the full moon fast approaching.

fuck.

pathfinder society organized play

álmos szarka (half-elf thaumaturge): still menacing the inner seas and beyond with their charm (and charms!) álmos is a native of irrisen, the winter-locked kingdom ruled by the winter witches under the guidance of baba yaga. as such, they have an inherent dislike for magic, and spent their formative years learning every folk trick and old wives' tale that could ward off foul hexes, supernatural creatures, and worse. having finally fled irrisen as an adult, they put their knowledge to use dealing with haunts, curses, and all sorts of dangerous beasties for the pathfinder society. in the aftermath of the godsrain, álmos has been busy putting their illusion and smuggling skills to work helping 'rain-blessed' refugees flee rahadoum, while gathering intel on an extremist faction of the pure legion that seeks to take the matter of these unwilling divine magic-users into their own hands.

ivorna fen (elf twisting tree magus): miss ivy is also a pathfinder, though she found her way into their school of spells after being expelled from the chiroglyphica, a middling magic academy in taldor. she doesn't approach magic in a traditional sense, instead treating it as a complement to her martial skills. she goes on dungeon-delves quite often for the society, since she's well-equipped to find her way around magical traps and hazards; when she's not waist-deep in cobwebs she's probably putting out fires (metaphorical and literal) at the dacilane academy for pathfinders' children.

zafsah "the harrower" reiland (fetchling ranger): an expat from nidal who took up a post guarding the nirmathas border from undead incursions before being recruited by the pathfinders. zafsah prefers the company of nature to people, and never travels anywhere without her trusty terror bird, hades. recently she and hades have been helping track, study, and calm the wildlife on the island of kayajima in minkai, where she was stationed for a mission when gorum died and the godsrain fell. the red rain drove some of the fauna into a dangerous frenzy, and she and hades have already rescued a pair of griffins, a tiger, and a family of ducks (which immediately imprinted on hades).

eike blacksun (human warpriest of sarenrae): the daughter of a minor chelaxian noble house, eike was originally sworn into service of the temple of asmodeus as a champion. however, her faith was badly shaken when her young cousin was executed by the state, supposedly on charges of sedition—which rang a little hollow since he was all of eleven years old. she abandoned her oath to asmodeus and joined an underground cell of sarenrae worshippers, who taught her the doctrine of redemption and healing. she joined the pathfinders to help bring freedom to the chelish people. lately she's been working covert missions in egorian and westcrown, battling devils to thin the forces of the crown.

maris may (merfolk hydrokineticist): 'maris' is technically a pseudonym, but since her birth name is impossible to pronounce above water, it's the one she uses most commonly. maris is from one of the rare trench kingdoms of merfolk at the bottom of the arcadian ocean; she was forced to abandon her home when it was overrun by algollthus, and since the shallow-water merfolk communities were as alien to her as the surface world, she figured in for a whisker, in for a whalefall, and emigrated to absalom. the pathfinder society allows her to travel and experience the wonders of the surface while making accommodations for her needs—not a need for access to water, which she can make herself, but her blindness, which was common in her home where the light didn't reach but isn't accounted for in most above-water communities.

karina harker (human dhampir avenger rogue): karina is the youngest daughter of a pair of accomplished scholars from ustalav, both of whom moonlighted as vampire-slayers in their younger years. family lore says that her mother mina was bitten by a vampire long before karina or her siblings were born; mina survived, and neither her eldest son quincey nor her daughter lucy showed signs of vampiric influence, but a necrotic influenza swept through lepidstadt while karina was in the womb, and she was born with red eyes and fangs. her parents taught her and her siblings the basics of slaying undead, but once she reached her majority karina went into service of a militant sect of church-sanctioned hunters, worshippers of arazni and vicious undead-slayers. she joined the pathfinders as part of a partnership program between them and the knights of lastwall, and hopes to recruit more pathfinder agents to fight back the tide of undeath sweeping across lake encarthan.

starfinder (1e)

star mistress britta makee: somehow STILL has not died. she did recently get sucked through a wormhole, though, which was deeply unpleasant. currently she's battling her way through the graveyard of the gods to destroy some sort of fucked-up moon that's fueling a legion of unkillable murderous robots, because of course it is.

starfinder (2e playtest)

yenva togzu (fetchling shadow mystic): yenva is a native of the netherworld, and was raised by a cult of zon-kuthon in the shadow version of skydock. after zon-kuthon's divine reunion with his sister shelyn, yenva took up worship of their new deity with characteristic zeal, and departed the netherworld to help spread the good news of zon-shelyn's worship throughout the universe. they're rarely seen without their painglaive at hand, though in quiet moments they're known to sit down and sketch out tattoo designs.

syzygy (lashunta borai witchwarper): "sizzy," as her companions usually call her, doesn't remember when she died. it must have been at some point during the millenia-long blank space in history known only as "the Gap," although she finds her death less interesting than the fact that she woke up at some point after, secured in a pod in cold storage on a remote space station. somewhere, somehow, a tear formed in the fabric of spacetime, and syzygy fell through: no longer dead, not really alive, and full of weird reality-warping magic. these days she's mostly taking cargo transport jobs, although a couple of them have gone weird, but she has proven adept at dealing with ships suddenly overrun with ghosts!

greeroy jenkins (skittermander soldier bombardier): he has six arms, two grenade launchers, and enough adrenaline to kill a void troll. best move out of the way.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Another headcanon dump:

A nature clergy retreat for Papa and the Ghouls is a fucking nightmare…for Papa.

You got Swiss and Dewdrop more feral than the usual when they go long periods of time not touching grass.

Mountain would sprint off to the forest and poor Copia racing after him to not lose him, then finding the tall mother fucker rolling around in grass like a dog.

Phantom and Aurora being the newest summons take in more curiosity about the area so they accidentally wander off.

By the time Copia comes back with Mountain, he’s frantic on where they are

Cirrus and Cumulus who were helping Aether set up camp, were distracted, say casually that they went site seeing and point to the direction

There goes papa, with Aether’s help, again looking for them, and finds them playing with a squirrel on a tree.

Comes back to the site, NOW RAIN IS MISSING! He was at the nearest lake.

Once everything is settled, the only peaceful fun times is when they’re all surrounded by a bonfire, telling stories, singing some tunes, Swiss scaring the shit outta Copia when it was scary stories time.

Then when it’s time to head to bed, there’s two big ass tents, one for Papa, and one for the ghouls because they sleep in piles. It’s a pack thing.

But here’s the thing, one, Copia was still a bit spooked from Swiss’s prank earlier, so sleeping was a biiiit difficult. AND TWO, the ghouls were, with a slight bit of chaos, but mostly sincerely, wanted to go sleep with their Papa. He’s their papa. One of them. So it makes sense for him to be in the sleep pile too!

So one by one, a ghoul made their way to Copia’s tent. (First Phantom. Shout out to your Phanter cuddle buddies content)

Then Aurora, then Aether, then Cirrus, then Cumulus, then Swiss, then Rain, then Mountain, and lastly Dewdrop. Just so not much racket was heard of all went at the same time…

Copia woke up to 9 ghouls around him and on him…no wonder he was able to sleep so well last night.

Awww I love thisss

Mountain just being goofy is my favourite thing ever

[glennriley49]

The Forgotten Laboratory

The early morning mist clung to the mountainside, obscuring the rugged terrain that lay ahead. Four women stood at the trailhead, adjusting their backpacks and checking their gear one last time before embarking on what was supposed to be a challenging but refreshing three-day hike through the wilderness.

Sarah, the unofficial leader of the group, consulted her map and compass. Her short, auburn hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her green eyes scanned the path ahead. "Alright, ladies," she said, her voice carrying a note of excitement, "are we ready for this?"

Mel, a tall, athletic woman with dark skin and close-cropped hair, grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Born ready. Let's do this!"

"I still can't believe you talked me into this," grumbled Lisa, pushing her glasses up her nose. The petite brunette was more at home in a library than on a mountain trail, but her friends had insisted she needed to get out more.

The fourth member of their group, Rachel, a willowy blonde with a serene smile, placed a reassuring hand on Lisa's shoulder. "You'll love it, I promise. There's nothing like the peace and quiet of nature to clear your mind."

With a mix of enthusiasm and trepidation, the four women set off along the trail. The first few hours passed uneventfully, filled with cheerful chatter and the occasional stop to admire a particularly beautiful view or interesting plant.

As they climbed higher into the mountains, the forest around them grew denser, the trees older and more gnarled. The cheerful birdsong that had accompanied them in the lower elevations gradually faded away, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the crunch of their boots on the rocky path and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush.

By mid-afternoon, a light drizzle had begun to fall, and the mood of the group had sobered somewhat. They trudged on in silence, each lost in her own thoughts.

"Hey, Sarah?" Lisa called out suddenly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Are you sure we're still on the right trail? I don't remember seeing this on the map."

Sarah frowned and consulted her GPS. "That's weird," she muttered. "We should be right on track, but..." She trailed off, looking around with growing concern.

The path they were on had gradually narrowed and become less defined. The surrounding vegetation seemed different too – darker, more twisted, with an almost menacing air about it.

Mel pushed ahead, her keen eyes scanning the area. "Look," she said, pointing to a barely visible trail leading off to their right. "Maybe we missed a turn back there?"

The four women gathered around, peering down the overgrown path. Something about it made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up, though none of them could quite say why.

Rachel shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. "I don't like this," she said softly. "Maybe we should turn back and try to find where we went wrong."

Sarah bit her lip, considering. "We've come so far already," she said hesitantly. "And it'll be getting dark soon. We need to find a place to make camp..."

As if on cue, a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. The drizzle was quickly turning into a steady rain, and the temperature was dropping rapidly.

"Shit," Mel muttered. "We need to find shelter, and fast."

With a shared look of apprehension, the group made their way down the mysterious path. The further they went, the more oppressive their surroundings became. The trees seemed to loom over them, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The ground beneath their feet was soft and spongy, almost as if it were alive.

Lisa stumbled, nearly losing her footing on the treacherous terrain. As she regained her balance, something caught her eye – a glint of metal amidst the organic decay of the forest floor.

"Wait," she called out, crouching down to investigate. Her fingers brushed away layers of damp leaves and moss, revealing a small, tarnished plaque half-buried in the earth. She squinted at the faded lettering, struggling to make out the words in the dim light.

"'Property of... Somnus Research Institute'," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell is that?"

The others gathered around, peering at the mysterious plaque. A chill that had nothing to do with the rain ran down their spines.

"I've never heard of it," Sarah said, her brow furrowed. "But look – there's an arrow. It's pointing that way."

Following the direction of the arrow, they could just make out what appeared to be a structure in the distance, barely visible through the trees and the thickening mist.

"A building? All the way out here?" Rachel's voice was filled with disbelief.

Mel squared her shoulders. "Well, whatever it is, it's shelter. Come on."

As they approached the structure, its full scale became apparent. What had at first appeared to be a small cabin was revealed to be the entrance to a much larger complex built into the side of the mountain. The facade was a mix of stark concrete and rusted metal, its brutalist architecture a jarring contrast to the wild beauty of the surrounding forest.

A heavy steel door stood before them, partially ajar. Above it, barely legible through years of weathering and neglect, were the words "Somnus Research Institute."

"I don't like this," Lisa said, her voice trembling slightly. "We don't know what this place is. It could be dangerous."

Sarah nodded, her expression grave. "You're right, we need to be careful. But we also need to get out of this rain and get our bearings. We'll just take a quick look inside, okay? If it seems unsafe, we'll figure something else out."

With great caution, they approached the entrance. The door creaked ominously as Mel pushed it open wider, revealing a dark corridor beyond. The air that wafted out was stale and carried a faint, unpleasant odor that none of them could quite place.

Rachel fumbled in her pack for a flashlight, clicking it on and sweeping the beam across the entrance. The light revealed peeling paint, scattered debris, and a thick layer of dust covering everything.

"Hello?" Sarah called out tentatively. Her voice echoed down the corridor, fading into an unsettling silence.

The four women exchanged nervous glances before stepping inside, the door swinging shut behind them with a dull thud that made them all jump.

As they ventured deeper into the facility, the sense of wrongness grew stronger. Emergency lights flickered sporadically, casting eerie shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. The walls were lined with faded posters and charts, many of them featuring unsettling images of human brains and sleep cycle diagrams.

"What kind of research were they doing here?" Lisa wondered aloud, her academic curiosity momentarily overriding her fear.

"Nothing good, by the looks of it," Mel replied grimly.

They came to a junction, corridors branching off in three directions. Each hallway looked identical – long, dimly lit, and foreboding.

"We should stick together," Sarah said firmly. "Let's try this way first." She pointed to the left corridor.

As they moved down the chosen path, the air grew noticeably colder. Their breath began to mist in front of them, and Lisa could have sworn she saw something move in her peripheral vision.

"Did you see that?" she whispered, grabbing Rachel's arm.

Rachel shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "No, what?"

Before Lisa could respond, a loud crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the facility, causing all four women to freeze in their tracks.

"What was that?" Mel hissed, her body tensing for action.

"I don't know," Sarah replied, her voice tight with fear. "But I think we should-"

Her words were cut off by a blood-curdling scream that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was a sound of pure anguish and madness, unlike anything they had ever heard before.

Panic set in. The four friends turned and ran back the way they had come, their hearts pounding in their chests. But as they reached the junction, they realized with growing horror that nothing looked familiar.

"Which way?" Rachel gasped, her eyes darting frantically between the identical corridors.

"I-I don't know," Sarah admitted, her usual confidence shattered. "I thought we came from..."

Another scream pierced the air, closer this time. And with it came the sound of shuffling footsteps, growing louder by the second.

"In here!" Mel shouted, spotting a door labeled 'Storage'. She yanked it open, ushering her friends inside before following and pulling the door shut behind them.

The small room was pitch black save for the beam of Rachel's flashlight. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with dusty lab equipment and mysterious containers. The women huddled together, trying to control their ragged breathing as they listened for any sound from the corridor outside.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Finally, Lisa spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. "What's happening? What is this place?"

Sarah shook her head, at a loss for words. "I don't know. But we need to find a way out of here."

"Did you see the way those charts on the wall looked?" Rachel murmured. "It was like they were studying sleep, but... wrong somehow."

Mel nodded grimly. "I've heard stories about secret government experiments on sleep deprivation. Supposedly, they were trying to create soldiers who didn't need to sleep. But it always went horribly wrong."

A chill ran down their spines at the implication. What if those stories were true? And what if they had just stumbled into the aftermath of such an experiment?

Their hushed conversation was interrupted by a soft thud against the door. Then another. And another. Something was out there, trying to get in.

The women held their breath, pressing themselves against the far wall of the storage room. The thuds grew more insistent, accompanied now by a low, guttural growling unlike any animal they had ever heard.

Suddenly, the door burst open. In the beam of the flashlight, they caught a glimpse of their pursuer – a grotesque, emaciated figure with wild, bloodshot eyes and skin stretched tight over protruding bones. Its mouth was open in a silent scream, revealing rows of jagged, broken teeth.

Mel reacted first, grabbing a heavy microscope from a nearby shelf and hurling it at the creature. It connected with a sickening crunch, and the thing stumbled backward, momentarily stunned.

"Run!" Mel shouted, shoving her friends toward the door.

They burst out of the storage room and into the corridor, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Behind them, they could hear the creature recovering, its inhuman shrieks echoing off the walls.

"This way!" Sarah yelled, choosing a direction at random. They had no idea where they were going, but anywhere was better than here.

As they ran, more shapes emerged from the shadows – more of the mutated, sleepless abominations. Some crawled along the walls and ceiling like demented spiders, while others lumbered after them with a speed that belied their emaciated forms.

Lisa stumbled, her glasses flying off her face. Rachel grabbed her arm, pulling her along. "Don't stop!" she panted.

They turned a corner and found themselves in what appeared to be a large laboratory. Rows of examination tables lined the room, each equipped with heavy restraints. Monitors flickered to life as they entered, filling the air with a cacophony of beeps and alarms.

"Look for another exit!" Sarah commanded, her eyes darting around the room.

As the others searched frantically, Mel's attention was caught by a series of video screens that had come to life. Each showed a different scene of horror – test subjects strapped to beds, their eyes held open as they were subjected to sleep deprivation well beyond the limits of human endurance. She watched in horrified fascination as the subjects deteriorated, their minds and bodies twisting into something inhuman.

"Mel, come on!" Lisa's panicked voice snapped her out of her trance. They had found another door on the far side of the lab.

As they raced toward it, the main entrance burst open. A horde of the mutated creatures poured in, their sunken eyes fixed on the four women with predatory intensity.

They made it through the door just in time, slamming it shut behind them. Mel and Sarah braced themselves against it as the creatures on the other side began to pound and claw at the metal.

"It won't hold for long," Mel grunted, feeling the door shudder under the assault.

"There!" Rachel pointed down the new corridor. A sign on the wall read 'Emergency Exit', with an arrow pointing the way.

With a shared nod of determination, they abandoned their position at the door and took off running once again. The sounds of pursuit were close behind, spurring them on despite their exhaustion.

The emergency exit sign led them through a maze of corridors, each one feeling endless in their panic. Just as they were beginning to lose hope, they rounded a corner and saw it – a heavy security door with 'EXIT' emblazoned across it in faded red letters.

Sarah reached it first, yanking on the handle with all her might. It didn't budge. "It's locked!" she cried out in despair.

Lisa pushed her way forward, her eyes scanning the keypad next to the door. "It needs a code," she said, her mind racing. "Four digits."

The sounds of their pursuers grew louder. They were running out of time.

"Think!" Mel urged. "Did we see anything that could be a code?"

Rachel's eyes widened in realization. "The date!" she exclaimed. "On that plaque we found outside. It had a date!"

Lisa nodded frantically. "Yes! It was... 1986! Try 1986!"

With trembling fingers, Sarah punched in the numbers. For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then, with a hiss of hydraulics, the door began to slide open.

"Go, go, go!" Mel shouted, ushering her friends through the opening.

They burst out into the cool night air, the exit leading them to a different part of the mountainside than where they had entered. Without pausing to catch their breath, they continued to run, putting as much distance between themselves and the nightmarish facility as possible.

It wasn't until the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky that they finally allowed themselves to stop, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.

As they sat there, trying to process the horrors they had witnessed, Sarah pulled out her satellite phone with shaking hands. "I'm calling for help," she said, her voice hoarse. "We need to report this place to the authorities."

The others nodded in agreement, too drained to speak. They huddled together as Sarah made the call, each lost in their own thoughts about the nightmare they had survived and the poor souls they had left behind in that forgotten laboratory.

As they waited for rescue, they made a silent pact. They would tell their story, no matter who tried to silence them. The world needed to know about the horrors that lurked in those mountains – the tragic consequences of man's hubris in trying to conquer the fundamental need for sleep.

The Somnus Research Institute may have been forgotten by the outside world, but its legacy of terror would live on in the memories of four friends who had ventured into the wilderness seeking adventure, only to discover a nightmare beyond imagination.

[justkatrinadavid]

Script

Contact information

Katrina S. David

Magalang pampanga,

Philippines

+63098255063

Katrinadavid49@gmail.com

THE HIKER'S

Cast of characters

Miya - is the lead character of the story, she loves hiking ( adventure's)

Layla - A childhood friend of miya

Karina - friends of miya and layla

Note: For the better understanding (*) this sign is the cue for the character of the story, () and for this sign it is the part of imagery and figure of speech that blends throughout in this story

Time

The present

Synopsis

The story "The Forgotten Forest" follows three hikers—miya , layla, and karina—as they explore a mysterious forest. Along the way, they encounter various sensory experiences, from the scent of fragrant flowers to the feel of cactus-like plants. As they navigate the changing weather, they discover the secrets whispered by the trees and marvel at the beauty of the mountains. After their adventure, miya reflects on her journey with her mother, finding solace in her company. The story explores themes of friendship, nature, and the beauty found in unexpected places.

Setting

Mountain, house and backyard

Once upon a time, they seen (visual) a forgotten forest in the town called greenland, where's a lot of different types of bird's "tweet, tweet"( auditory) in the morning. The hiker's miya,layla, and karina hiking in the forest,

(*miya smelled the fragrant flower's in the mountain)(olfactory) 

Miya : ohh look those flower's can eat and a taste strawberry (gustatory)

(*pointing at flower's)

Karina: let's taste it

Layla : omg i touch it and it's similar in a cactus skin( tactile)

(*then suddenly the weather change (thermal)the hiker's don't know what to do because they don't have a umbrella or a coat)

Layla: ohh it's raining!

Karina: guyss, i forgot my coat 

Miya : i don't have a coat and umbrella

The trees whispered secrets to the wind(personification), the forest was dark as the midnight sky(simile),

(*Miya, Layla , and Karina are walking)

Layla : the beauty of mountain is shine in the darkness(oxymoron)

Karina : the mountain is an mystery( metaphor)

Miya : "this is the beautiful mountain in the world"(hyperbole).

(* After they went to the mountain)

Miya came back in her mother because she is living with her parent in one roof(synecdoche).

Because she could not do walking alone going back. her friends came back home first, so Miya's need a hand(metonymy),

Miya : mom i miss you

Miya's mother: ohh i miss you too

(*after that miya tells story to her mother that walking alone in the forest is kinda cool, even she's scared) (irony).

(*In the next morning , as miya wake's up to see her garden)(visual). 

Miya: so dryyyyy (*while walking)

(*A little thin on the side the petals on her flower is falling.)

Miya : oh no... They need a water!

(*In the next morning)

(*her friend layla walking in backyard she saw that her shirt is dirty)

Miya : heyyy! Layla

Miyaa: "layla your shirt has something"( euphemism)

Layla: ohh

Miya: your shirt is nothing( understatement)

Layla : miya stop talking nonsense

So miya's friend invite her in the backyard to taste her coffe a taste similar in matcha with pudding and a pearl ( gustatory)

Miya: comeee!

Miya: hey sissy this is for you!

Layla: ohh thank u sissy

(*She give the coffee to her friend)

Karina : so let's plan our next hike

(* After that , they visit layla and karina to have a little conversation in her backyard)

[ravendruid]

"are you still with me?" for vaxleth!

Thank you for the prompt, friend <3 Please don't hate me for this. This drabble is set after the end of Campaign 1, more specifically a few years after Campaign 2, Episode 107.

Are you still with me?

Keyleth woke up with a startle from a loud thunder striking somewhere in the mountains surrounding her. Her hands were raised high in front of her shoulders, ready to cast a spell at the origin of the noise, however as she recovered her breath and took in her surroundings, Keyleth saw nothing but darkness, the only flicker of light coming from the stump of wax on top of her dresser, fighting for its life.

She closed her eyes and waited for the next thunder, taking deep breaths. When it reverberated in the air, she focused her mind on it, imagining the dark and stormy sky above Zephrah, the dark grey clouds, ready to let go of the rain, and, as Keyleth opened her eyes, it was as if her mind was in tune with nature itself. The clouds let go with another rumble, and rain poured down against the roof of her small abode. 

Keyleth allowed herself a smile. She knew she could control the weather and call for storms, but sometimes all she needed was the quiet moments of meditation and communion to understand what nature felt. It had been a while since she properly sat and communed, and being jerked awake by a sudden storm was the perfect way to remind her of it.

As the thunder calmed, so did Keyleth, who laid back in bed, facing the empty, cold spot once taken and warmed by another body. Her heart clenched thinking about him, his raven hair contrasting the white pillow, the warmth of his eyes always finding hers when she needed the most, the touch of his calloused hands and his skin on hers. Keyleth missed him every day, and she would for a long, long time. Her tears started falling, soaking the pillow underneath her head, as thick and fast as the rain outside. One with nature was her fate, the one she had chosen for herself, opposite of the one he had been forced into. And Keyleth took solace in knowing that one day when the time came, she would take fate by the hand and let it guide her to him.

The morning air was still humid when Keyleth stepped out of her house, mantle around her shoulders, circlet adorning her braided hair, and Spire of Conflux in her hand. The storm had long been gone from the mountains, but the grass still splashed beneath her steps, and Keyleth was sad to see a lack of birds in the trees. I can’t blame them. I would be upset, too, if the branches and leaves were wet. 

Keyleth took a deep breath before she closed the gate behind her, walking towards the town center where her parents waited for her to join them for breakfast before her morning meetings. She was happy and excited to see them together again after so long, to see that the tiny flame of love left during separation hadn’t extinguished itself, giving her hope that neither would hers. She couldn’t deny, though, not to herself, at least, that seeing her parents together once again, in love like the old days, had brought her a sorrow she had never felt before, borderline jealousy of their fate. She was happy for them, but at the same time, she could also see what she would be missing for the rest of her life.

A loud caw broke her reverie as a large, black feathered bird swooped above her head in a circle and landed on her shoulder, its talons curled in a way that would not carve into her skin. The bird tilted its head to hers, and Keyleth let it caress her cheek. Of all the birds, only the large raven that visited her every day would be brave enough to venture into the post-storm humidity of Zephrah. 

“Are you still with me?” She asked the raven, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly into a tight smile. 

The bird cawed again, nuzzling its beak against her neck affectionately, and Keyleth could almost hear Vax’s voice, “Always.”

Like the other birds, Keyleth hated the humidity since always made her hair frizzy, but at the same time, just like her raven, she knew she had to be brave enough to face the day ahead of her and every day after. As she turned a corner, she saw the two figures of Vilya and Korrin kissing and whispering sweet nothings, and even though her stomach churned, the pressure on her shoulder reminded her that Keyleth was not alone, that she would never be alone because he was still there and would always be with her.