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Silent strain | part iv

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

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summary: Time passes by and Joel still doesn't come back. The baby arrives and you feel lonely.

w.c: 10,5k

warnings: angst, mentions of birth, fluff, mentions of blood, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks & paragraphs in cursive indicate journal entries. Reader cries a lot in this one, we didn't have a good week.

a/n: chapter four is here! Thank you to everyone who take their time to leave comments and share this story, which was supposed to be only 3 chapters but became longer. I hope you like this one. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Since you had met Joel, this was the first time you had ever been in a room without him. You were surrounding by walls in a safe place that it was foreign for you, sitting alone on the edge of a bed that you had just shared with Joel the night prior, now feeling impossibly lonely without him around. The weight hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the reality that Joel had left and you didn’t know if him and Ellie would be alright.

The weight of it hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the overwhelming reality that Joel had left. That you didn’t know if he and Ellie were alright. If they ever would be. A tight knot formed in your chest, pulling tighter with each passing minute.

Your mind raced, thoughts of where Joel might be gnawing at you. Were they already on the road? Were they safe? Had they run into trouble? You tried to push the thoughts away, tried to convince yourself they were fine, that Joel would protect Ellie like he always had. But the fear lingered, gnawing at you in the quiet of the room.

You stood abruptly, the need to do something, anything, to shake off the growing anxiety driving you to your feet. Pacing around the bedroom, your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, trying to think, trying to breathe through the tightening in your chest.

But no matter how hard you tried; the worry wouldn’t leave. Each time you circled the room, it felt as though the walls were closing in a little more, trapping you in this unbearable uncertainty.

And then, as you turned again, your eyes landed on something that stopped you cold.

There, on the chair by the window, was Joel’s shirt. Not just any shirt—his favorite one, the one he always wore, the one that had become your favorite too. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from your lungs. You stepped closer, almost as if in a trance, and your trembling fingers reached out to touch the fabric.

The scent of him still lingered in the material, that familiar mix of worn cotton, faint sweat, and the earthy scent that was unmistakably Joel. The tears that had been building in your chest all day finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as you clutched the shirt in your hands.

Life in the QZ didn’t leave much room for joy. Every day was a struggle, ration cards barely covering enough food, let alone anything extra. But you had managed to save up just enough to get him something special.

The shirt.

You had seen it hanging in the back of a small booth during one of your shifts at the QZ market. It wasn’t much—faded, a little worn—but it had a softness to it that you thought Joel might appreciate. He never said it out loud, but you could tell his clothes were becoming threadbare, the weight of the world making even the little comforts seem unattainable. You wanted to change that, even in a small way.

The look on his face when you handed it to him had been one of complete confusion, like he didn’t quite know what to do with kindness anymore.

“Why’d you get me this?” Joel had asked, his brow furrowing as he held up the shirt, inspecting it like he thought there was some kind of catch.

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “I just… thought you could use something new. You’ve been wearing the same damn thing since I met you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes were still guarded, suspicious. “You used your rations for this?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little softer, more vulnerable than you intended. “It’s no big deal. Just… thought you deserved something nice.”

Joel stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the shirt like he was afraid to accept it, afraid of what it meant. His gaze flickered to yours, and you saw something there, unreadable.

“Why’re you doing this for me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost accusing, as if he couldn’t believe that someone would care about him enough to make such a gesture.

You took a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “Because I want to, Joel. Because you matter to me.”

His eyes darkened, the weight of your words settling between you like a heavy fog. You could see the battle he was waging within himself, the walls he had built so high, trying to protect himself from feeling anything. But the look in his eyes softened, if only for a moment, and something shifted.

Before you could say anything else, before you even had a chance to breathe, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hand cupped the back of your neck, rough but gentle, and then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t soft or slow. It was raw, desperate, as if he had been holding himself back for far too long. The kiss stole the air from your lungs, a surge of warmth flooding through you. He kissed you like he needed it, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and in that moment, you knew that this was more than just a Kiss, it was the first crack in his armor.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Neither could you.

“You shouldn’t be wastin’ rations on me,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, almost tender.

You smiled, your hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt. “Not a waste. Not at all.”

Joel’s lips twitched, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a small, real smile.

From that moment on, the shirt had become his favorite. He wore it often, and every time he did, it reminded you of that day, of the first time he had let you in.

From that moment on, you had become the most precious thing he had in the world.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sobbed into the fabric, holding onto it as if it were him, as if it could somehow bring him back. The ache in your heart was unbearable, the reality of his absence crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You whispered his name through your tears, wondering where he was, if he was thinking of you too. If he missed you, and of course he did, you thought. But what was really eating you was his safety. The fear clawed at you, the unknown hanging over you like a dark cloud.

"Please come back," you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking. But the only answer was the silence, the vast, aching silence that now filled the space Joel had left behind.

+

At the same time, miles away, Joel lay on the cold floor of an abandoned house, his body limp, covered in sweat and blood. His breath came in ragged gasps, barely enough to keep him conscious. The world around him blurred, the edges of his vision darkening as pain coursed through his body. His grip on reality was slipping, but one thing remained constant in his mind: you.

He tried to focus, tried to stay awake, but it was getting harder. The wound in his side throbbed with every shallow breath, blood seeping through his clothes and pooling beneath him. The searing pain was relentless, but what hurt more was the thought of you, alone, without him.

Ellie was beside him, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, her hands shaking as she applied pressure to his wound. "Joel, stay with me," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, his gaze unfocused. He could hear her voice, but it felt distant, muffled, like she was speaking through water. His thoughts drifted to you—how you had always been the one to keep him grounded, to remind him there was something worth fighting for.

He thought of your smile, the way your eyes would light up when you laughed. He thought of the shirt you'd given him back in the QZ, how he hadn’t understood why someone like you would care for someone like him. He thought of the nights you spent together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and how your belly had grown your baby inside.

The thought of not having the chance of meeting his baby was pulling the string to life now.

"Joel, stay with me!" Ellie’s voice broke through the fog again, more urgent this time. She was crying now, her hands stained red as she tried to keep him alive. She had seen too much death, lost too many people, and she couldn’t lose him too. Not now.

Joel’s breath hitched as his body fought to stay conscious. He thought of you one last time, of the child growing inside you, the life he had left behind to protect Ellie. He had made a choice, but now, as the darkness threatened to pull him under, all he could think about was getting back to you.

His hand twitched, reaching for something—anything to hold on to—but all he felt was the cold, hard floor beneath him. His eyelids grew heavier, his body weaker, but somewhere deep inside, he clung to the hope that he would see you again. That he would make it back to you.

"Please," he whispered, though it was barely audible. He wasn’t sure if he was begging Ellie to save him or if it was a prayer to the universe to bring him back to you.

Ellie’s hands didn’t stop, her desperation fueling her as she fought to keep him alive. "I won’t let you die," she swore, her voice raw with emotion. "I won’t."

But as Joel’s world faded to black, the only thing on his mind was you, and the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch, everything that had kept him going. The thought of you was his last tether to the world, the only thing he could hold onto in the darkness.

And then, there was nothing.

you stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the window, your body still heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your sorrow. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of Joel’s shirt, the scent of him lingering in the fibers, a bittersweet reminder of his absence.

A gentle knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You sat up slowly, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks, the reality of the past few days crashing back over you like a wave. “Come in,” you called, your voice hoarse from crying.

The door creaked open, revealing Tommy standing in the doorway, a worried expression etched across his face. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room. “I thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a small smile, but it felt fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. “I’m okay,” you lied, though the truth hung heavily in the air between you.

Tommy’s gaze fell to the shirt in your hands, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “You miss him,” he stated rather than asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, the tears welling up again, and you quickly blinked them away. “Of course I miss him. And I don’t know if he is okay.”

Tommy moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I wish I could tell you he is. But… we’ve been through a lot, and sometimes, we have to trust that they’ll come back to us.”

His words brought some comfort, but it was fleeting. “What if he doesn’t?” you whispered. “What if he and Ellie are hurt?”

You wanted to believe him, to cling to that hope, but the uncertainty gnawed at you. “I just want him back,” you admitted, the ache in your heart making your voice crack. “I want them both back, we were supposed to be a family.”

Tommy’s expression softened; the concern etched on his face deepening. “I know,” he replied, his voice steady. “You’re right. You three are a family, and it’s not fair for you to feel this way.”

The raw emotion in your words hung heavy in the air. You could feel the tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. “It just feels so empty without him.”

He nodded in understanding, his gaze unwavering. “Joel’s a fighter, and so are you. Just hold on to that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that hope can keep us going even when things seem dark.”

“But what if hope isn’t enough?” you asked, frustration creeping into your voice. “What if he’s out there, and I’m just stuck here waiting?”

Tommy sighed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not just waiting. You’re doing something important right now by taking care of yourself and that baby. Joel would want you to stay safe and strong. You’re both his world.”

His words made you pause. You had been so consumed with worry that you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider what Joel would want for you, for the baby. You needed to honor his love by taking care of yourself, even if it felt impossible at the moment.

“I know you’re right,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It’s just hard to think of anything else when all I want is to be with him.”

Tommy reached over, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, you have to keep yourself strong for my baby nephew or niece there” he said pointing at your belly, “And I heard that there is a delicious breakfast waiting for you at my house.”

A small smile broke through your sadness at Tommy's words. The thought of food, especially something delicious, made your stomach rumble. “Breakfast, huh?” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. “Is it worth the trek over there?”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “You bet it is. Maria’s been in the kitchen since sunrise, whipping up all sorts of goodies. You can’t say no to her pancakes.”

The mention of Maria made your heart feel a little lighter. She always had a way of brightening your day, and the thought of spending time with her and Tommy brought a hint of normalcy back into your chaotic world. “Alright, I guess I can be tempted by pancakes,” you said, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Just give me a moment to get ready.”

As you stood up and moved towards the small mirror on the wall, Tommy turned to leave, but not before he added, “And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, and Joel will come back. You have to believe that.”

You nodded, feeling the flicker of hope ignite once more within you. “I will, Tommy. Thank you.”

As the weeks passed, life in Jackson continued to move forward, albeit without Joel. You immersed yourself in the routine of the community, trying to find solace in the familiar faces and daily activities. However, your heart remained tethered to the memories of him, each thought a bittersweet reminder of what was lost.

Paul’s presence became more pronounced during this time. His visits were frequent, and he often lingered a bit longer than necessary, his laughter ringing through your home, filling the silence left by Joel. At first, you welcomed his company, finding comfort in his kindness, but gradually you began to notice the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his touch was a little too warm, a little too intentional.

You were oblivious to his growing intentions, too consumed by thoughts of Joel. Every time Paul made a gesture that hinted at something more—like the way he’d offer to carry things for you or the way his smile seemed to brighten when he caught your eye—you brushed it off as friendly camaraderie.

But in the quiet moments, especially as your pregnancy progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder what Joel would say or do. You often imagined him here, by your side, offering his protective presence and the warmth of his love.

One afternoon, while you were resting on the porch, Paul joined you, bringing along a small basket of fruit. “Thought you might like a snack,” he said, settling down beside you. “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, taking a piece of fruit and munching on it absentmindedly. Your mind drifted, imagining Joel’s voice teasing you about how much you were eating, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought.

Paul watched you, his expression softening as he leaned a bit closer. “You know,” he started, hesitating for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’re pretty amazing. I admire how strong you are, going through all this without—”

“Without Joel?” you interjected gently, your heart clenching at the mention of his name. “I don’t really feel strong. I just… I’m doing what I have to do.”

Paul nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering across his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Right. Just know I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”

You offered him a grateful smile, but inside, the ache for Joel was relentless. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that Joel would come back, and that you could return to the life you had built together. But every passing day made the reality of that hope feel more distant.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon, you felt the familiar pang of loneliness creeping back in. You were in Jackson, surrounded by people, yet the emptiness inside you was profound. No amount of comfort from Paul could fill the void that Joel had left behind.

February 15

It’s been weeks since Joel left, and I’m still struggling to accept it. I find myself waking up each morning, hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but the empty side of the bed reminds me of the truth. I miss him more than I can put into words.

Tommy and Maria have been amazing, and I’m grateful for their support. They try to keep me distracted, to make me feel like I’m not alone, but the truth is that every moment feels heavy without him here. Even the laughter we share feels tinged with sadness. I want to be strong, for my baby and for Joel, but some days, it feels like an impossible task.

And then there’s Paul. He’s kind and thoughtful, and I can see that he cares about me. I appreciate everything he does, but it feels wrong to let myself lean on him. My heart belongs to Joel, and nothing will change that. I’m still waiting for him to come back, to hold me again and make everything feel right.

I can’t shake the fear that I might never see him again. What if something happened? What if he’s in pain? My heart aches with every unanswered question. I wish I could tell him that I love him, that I’m thinking of him every second of the day.

But then, I think of the baby. The baby needs me to be strong. I need to focus on keeping myself healthy for them, even when it feels like my heart is breaking. I can’t forget about them in the midst of all this pain.

I keep reminding myself that I’m not alone. I have Tommy and Maria, and even Paul, though it feels complicated sometimes. I just wish I could feel whole again.

As I sit here writing, holding onto this shirt of Joel's, I hope that wherever he is, he knows how much I love him. I hope he’s safe and that he’s thinking of me too. I’ll keep writing until he returns. It’s the only way I know how to keep our story alive.”

It was one of those quiet evenings when the weight of Joel's absence seemed unbearable. You hadn’t seen much of Tommy or Maria that day, and Dr. Paul had stopped by as usual. This time, though, he lingered longer, suggesting he bring you dinner to keep you company. You hesitated, but the idea of eating alone in the house that felt more like a stranger’s shelter than a home wore on you. So, reluctantly, you agreed.

The two of you sat across from each other at the small table, plates of food in front of you, but you barely touched yours. Paul, on the other hand, seemed relaxed, making light conversation about the community, about his work. You nodded along, offering small smiles, but your mind wandered, as it always did, back to Joel.

After a while, Paul cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between bites. His eyes lingered on you, a softness there that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "You know," he began, his voice gentle but carrying a certain weight, "you won’t be able to do this alone forever."

You furrowed your brows, not quite following. "What do you mean?"

Paul leaned forward slightly, his expression serious, yet warm. "Raising a baby... it’s not something you should have to handle on your own. You’ll need someone by your side. Someone who can help you, take care of you and the baby."

Your heart skipped a beat at the insinuation, and for a moment, the room felt too small. The air thickened as you stared at him, realization dawning slowly. He wasn’t just offering help out of kindness. There was something more to his visits, to his attentiveness, something you hadn’t seen until now.

You swallowed hard, a flash of anger mixing with the ache of missing Joel. You pushed your plate away, your appetite completely gone now. "Joel’s gonna get back," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "He’s coming back."

Paul blinked, taken aback by your response. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out how to respond. "I understand that you care for Joel," he said carefully, his tone measured, "but he left, didn’t he? He made a choice."

Your jaw tightened, defensive walls going up. "I don’t care about Joel. I love him. I’m in love with him. He’s doing what he has to. He’s coming back for us. I know it."

Paul’s gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes—concern, perhaps, or frustration. “I just don’t want you to set yourself up for heartbreak. You deserve to have someone who’s here for you now, not just someone you hope will come back.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t know what we have, Paul. You don’t understand the bond we built, the things we’ve been through together.”

His expression shifted slightly, a mix of empathy and something you couldn’t quite place. “And I respect that. But you also need to think about your future—about your baby. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s...”

“Stop,” you interrupted, the word bursting from you like a shield. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I won’t allow myself to entertain that thought. Joel will come back for us and before the baby arrives.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the only sounds coming from the gentle crackling of the fire in the corner and the distant hum of life outside. You could feel the weight of the unspoken hanging between you, a chasm created by the gulf of your differing hopes.

Paul opened his mouth, clearly torn on how to respond. “Look, I’m not trying to come between you two. I just—”

“I know,” you interjected, your voice calmer now, but still firm. “You care. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, for the baby. But my heart belongs to Joel, and it always will. It’s not fair to me or to him to act like that connection doesn’t exist just because he’s not here right now.”

Paul sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Okay. I hear you. But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Whether it’s just as a friend or... more. Just think about it, alright?”

You nodded, though your heart felt heavy. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he wanted to help. But every time you thought of Joel, a warmth spread through you that no one else could replicate.

“Thanks, Paul,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “But I think you should go.”

Paul's face fell at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. The warmth that had been there moments before faded, replaced by a guarded expression. “I understand,” he replied softly, his voice steady despite the obvious hurt. “I just wanted to help you, to be there for you in any way I could.”

You felt a pang of guilt for turning him away, but you had to be firm. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Paul. Really. But from now on, I think it’s best if we keep things more... professional. I need to focus on me and the baby right now. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

He nodded slowly, processing your words. “Of course. I can respect that,” he said, though the disappointment lingered in his eyes. “I’ll check on the baby and make sure you’re both doing okay, but I won’t push for anything more.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved that he seemed to understand. “That’s all I need for now. Just someone who can help with check-ups and advice. No more dinners or flowers or anything like that. I need to keep my mind clear.”

Paul inhaled deeply, nodding again. “I get it. I really do. Just know that if you ever change your mind or need anything, I’m here.”

As he stood up to leave, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the air. You felt a mix of sadness and relief wash over you, knowing that you had made the right choice for your heart, but also recognizing the friendship that was slipping away.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softening again as he moved toward the door. “And take care of that little one. I’ll be around to check on you both.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, forcing a smile even though your heart felt heavy. As he stepped outside, the door closing gently behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You stared at the empty chair where he had just sat, the silence of the room settling around you. The reality of your situation loomed large; you were alone in a world where you were still waiting for Joel, still holding onto hope. The ache of missing him was as familiar as the beating of your heart, a constant reminder that some connections could never truly be replaced.

As you turned your gaze back to the window, you let your thoughts drift once more to Joel, the warmth of his memory wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You closed your eyes and whispered his name, hoping with all your heart that he was safe, that he was thinking of you too, and that one day soon, he would return to fill the void in your life.

You were about to give birth and Joel would be here by then.

The day had finally arrived, but as you lay in the infirmary, the pain of contractions rippled through you, sharper than you could have imagined. Each wave of discomfort was accompanied by a fresh wave of disappointment and anger, emotions that seemed to swirl together in a chaotic dance within you.

You gripped the edge of the bed, trying to focus on your breathing, but it felt impossible to push away the nagging thought that Joel should have been there. This was a moment that deserved his presence, his strength. You had envisioned him by your side, his reassuring voice guiding you through the pain, just as he had done so many times before. But instead, you were alone, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

“Just breathe, you’re doing great,” Paul said, trying to offer comfort as he checked your progress. His voice was calm and steady, but it did little to soothe the tumult inside you. You could sense his concern, but all you could think about was Joel, his absence a heavy weight on your chest.

“Where is he?” you gasped, the question slipping from your lips, filled with a mix of desperation and fury. “He should be here! He promised... he would be back.” The words came out more like a plea, the frustration boiling beneath the surface as you fought against the pain.

Paul exchanged a worried glance with the Tommy and Marie before looking back at you. “I know you’re scared. But you need to focus on the baby right now. You can do this.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on the here and now, but every wave of pain brought Joel’s face to your mind, and with it, a sharp pang of grief. Tommy’s hand was on yours, a steady, reassuring presence. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, though his voice sounded distant, almost muffled. “Just a little longer.”

You barely heard him, your thoughts swirling. The pressure built, and a cry escaped your lips as another contraction tore through you. Maria was on your other side, her face tight with worry. "Just breathe," she urged. "You're almost there."

You squeezed Tommy's hand harder, your nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Finally, there was a moment of stillness, a pause in the storm of pain. You felt the baby slide free, and then there was a new sound, thin and high-pitched, cutting through the air, the cry of a newborn.

But instead of relief, a hollow feeling settled in your chest. Your breath hitched, and your eyes remained tightly shut, refusing to open, refusing to acknowledge what had just happened.

Maria moved quickly, wrapping the baby in a soft blanket, her eyes filled with tears as she turned to you. "It’s a girl," she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. "A beautiful, healthy girl."

You didn’t look. You couldn’t. “No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “I… I don’t want to see her.”

Maria hesitated, a look of confusion flashing across her face. “But… she’s your baby,” she urged gently. "She's right here. She's perfect."

Tommy glanced at Maria, then back at you, a look of worry crossing his face. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “what’s going on? You’ve been waiting for this, for her. She’s your daughter.”

You felt a sob catch in your throat, the words clawing to get out. "I can’t… I can’t do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not without him. I can't..."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Maria and Tommy exchanging a look filled with unspoken concern. Tommy’s face softened, his grip on your hand tightening. “He’ll come back,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Joel will come back. You know he would never leave you like this… not for good.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "He left," you murmured, your voice trembling. "He left, and I don't know if he’s ever coming back. I don’t know how to do this without him. I don’t want to… I can’t look at her."

Maria’s expression softened, and she gently handed the baby to a nearby nurse, who took the little girl away for a moment. "It’s okay,” Maria whispered, sitting closer to you. "It's okay to be scared. It's okay to feel lost."

Your chest tightened, a sob breaking free from your lips. “I just… I needed him to be here,” you confessed, your voice small and broken. “I needed him, and he’s gone.”

Tommy rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, his eyes filled with empathy. "I know," he said quietly. "I know it hurts. But you’re not alone, okay? We’re here, Maria and I… all of Jackson is here for you. And Joel… I believe he’ll come back. You have to believe that too."

You closed your eyes again, feeling the exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. "I don’t know how to feel," you whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Tommy sighed, nodding slowly. “Take your time,” he murmured. “We’re not going anywhere. And when you’re ready… your little girl will be here, waiting for you.”

Maria reached out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered softly. “And she needs her mom. But we’ll take care of her for now. We’ll make sure she’s safe. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, barely, a sense of numbness spreading through you. Somewhere, deep inside, you wanted to believe that Joel would walk through that door any second now, that he’d see his daughter, hold her, and everything would be okay.

But until then, all you could do was wait.

A few hours later, the room had quieted down, the dim light from a nearby lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. You felt a heavy exhaustion weighing down on you, a bone-deep tiredness that seemed to seep into every part of your being. The adrenaline from the birth had faded, leaving you with a hollow ache that was more emotional than physical.

The door creaked open, and you heard the footsteps before you saw him.

Paul stepped inside, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey there,” he said softly, his voice low to avoid startling you. “How are you holding up?”

You nodded slightly, trying to muster a smile despite the emotional weight in your heart. “I’m okay. Just... tired.”

He moved closer, clearing his throat, looking down at you with a polite but firm expression. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low in the quiet room. “I know it’s been a lot, and you’re tired… but your baby girl needs to be fed.”

You turned your head away, staring at the wall, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest. You weren’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He took a step closer, his voice growing softer, almost coaxing. “She’s hungry. And the sooner you start, the better it’ll be for both of you. I know this is hard, but…” He hesitated, a slight frown creasing his brow. “She needs her mom.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a spark of irritation at his words. "I can’t," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. “Not now.”

He sighed, moving to the edge of the bed, his eyes searching your face for something, understanding, maybe. “Look, I get it,” he began, his tone more insistent. “But you can’t just leave her to starve. You’re all she has right now. You’re her whole world.”

You shot him a sharp glance, your frustration bubbling up. "I said no," you replied, your voice firmer this time. “Get someone else to feed her.”

Paul’s expression tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "There isn't anyone else,” he pressed. “We don’t have a lot of resources here, and formula is limited. You have to do this, or she’ll suffer.”

The weight of his words hit you, but so did his tone. The way he seemed to be blaming you, as if it was your fault that you were too broken, too overwhelmed to even look at your own child.

Maria, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward, placing a calming hand on the doctor’s arm. “Paul, give her a minute, okay?” she said softly but firmly. “She’s just been through a lot. Let’s give her some space.”

He nodded, reluctantly stepping back. "I’m just saying,” he muttered, his gaze flicking back to you. "She’s going to need her mother sooner rather than later."

He turned and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway. Maria watched him go, then turned back to you, her eyes filled with empathy. She reached out, gently squeezing your hand. “I know he can be a bit… pushy,” she said quietly, “but he’s right about one thing. She does need you.”

You swallowed hard, tears stinging your eyes again. “I just… I can’t face her, Maria,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “Not when I feel like this. Not without Joel.”

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I get it,” she whispered. “But you’re stronger than you think. And that little girl… she’s a part of you. And Joel, too.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of them settle in your heart. You were afraid — of loving this child, of losing her, of losing another part of yourself if Joel never came back. But there was also a flicker of something else, something deep and primal — the instinct to protect, to care, to nurture.

“I’ll bring her in,” Maria offered gently, “just for a moment. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Just… see her. That’s all.”

You hesitated, then slowly nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. Maria gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand again before leaving the room.

A few moments later, she returned with a tiny bundle in her arms. Your baby. So small, so fragile. The baby’s eyes were closed, her tiny mouth opening and closing in search of comfort.

Maria carefully placed her in your arms, and for the first time, you looked down at your daughter. Her face was so small, her skin so soft, and suddenly, without warning, a sob broke free from your chest. The sight of her, the feel of her warmth against you, tore through all the walls you’d built.

She was a piece of you. And a piece of Joel. And despite everything, despite the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, she was here, and she was yours.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tears flow freely down your cheeks. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The baby stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for the briefest moment, and in that instant, you felt a small spark of something in your chest, a tiny flicker of love, a tiny piece of you.

"Hi, baby Rosie," you whispered softly, naming her after the flowers you’d always loved, the ones that somehow still managed to grow even in the worst conditions. The name felt right, like a promise of something beautiful amidst all the harshness. Rosie shifted slightly, her tiny fingers curling against your chest, and a small, tender smile broke through your tears.

Maria’s smile widened, a warm, proud light in her eyes. "That’s a beautiful name," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Rosie… it suits her."

Just then, Tommy stepped into the room, his footsteps soft but purposeful. His gaze fell on you, cradling Rosie in your arms, and his face softened into a gentle, almost surprised smile. "Well, look at that," he said quietly, moving closer, his eyes never leaving the small bundle in your arms. "That’s my niece."

He came to your side, glancing at Maria for a moment, then back to you. There was something in his expression — a mix of relief, pride, and a kind of cautious joy. He looked down at Rosie, and you could see his eyes glisten just a little. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

You nodded, your own emotions swirling, a strange mix of overwhelming love and the lingering ache of uncertainty. “She is,” you agreed softly, glancing down at your daughter. “She’s so… tiny.”

Tommy chuckled, his smile growing wider. “Yeah, they start that way,” he teased gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his hand lightly brushed Rosie’s head. “Hey there, Rosie,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be just fine. Got your mama right here… and your uncle Tommy, too.”

Maria moved closer, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s waist. “We’re all here,” she added, her voice soft but firm. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You’ve got us.”

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for their presence, their support, and their love. It didn’t erase the pain or the uncertainty, but it made it a little easier to bear. Holding Rosie closer, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the warmth of this moment, to hope — even just a little — that things might be okay.

Rosie let out a tiny yawn, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, glancing up at Tommy and Maria. "For being here… for everything."

Tommy gave a slight nod, his expression tender. "We're family," he replied simply. "That’s what we do."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. Rosie began to fuss in your arms, her tiny mouth opening and closing, searching. You glanced at Maria, who gave you an encouraging nod. "It’s okay," she whispered. "She’s hungry."

You adjusted your position on the bed, feeling a mix of nervousness and instinct kicking in. As you began to unbutton your shirt to feed Rosie, you noticed Tommy standing awkwardly nearby, his eyes wide as he realized what was about to happen.

His face turned a shade redder, and he quickly looked away, trying to give you privacy. “Uh… yeah, I’ll just… I’ll, uh… step out,” he stammered, taking a step back toward the door. He paused for a moment, then added with a slight grin, “And don’t worry, I’ll never tell Joel I saw this.”

Maria burst out laughing at his awkwardness, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Tommy. It’s just feeding a baby. You’ve seen worse.”

Tommy’s smile widened, though he kept his gaze firmly on the floor. "Yeah, but Joel’s my brother, and I don’t think he’d appreciate me having a front-row seat to… this," he muttered, his voice light with humor but his discomfort still clear.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a bit of tension easing from your shoulders. “Thanks, Tommy,” you said, grateful for the attempt at levity in such a raw moment. “And yeah, maybe keep this one to yourself.”

Tommy gave you a playful salute. “You got it,” he said before slipping out of the room, leaving you with Maria and Rosie.

Maria moved closer, her smile warm and understanding. “You’re doing great,” she murmured. “And don’t mind Tommy. He’s just being… well, Tommy.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. Rosie’s small movements brought your attention back to her, and you focused on the task at hand. You guided her to latch, feeling a mix of discomfort and wonder as she began to feed. For a moment, all the noise in your mind quieted, and there was just the steady rhythm of her tiny breaths, the rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of her against you.

Maria watched with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "See?" she whispered. "You’ve got this."

You nodded slowly, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you did.

A month had passed since Rosie was born, and the world outside felt heavier than ever. Each day, you rose with the sun, cradling your baby and navigating the delicate balance of motherhood in a world that seemed intent on breaking you. But the absence of Joel loomed larger than any other burden. His absence echoed through the quiet of your days, a painful reminder of the love you’d lost amid the chaos.

As you paced the small living space, the walls felt like they were closing in on you. The gentle cooing of Rosie contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in your heart. Every time you glanced at her, you felt a pang of anger bubble up — anger at the universe for taking him from you, anger at yourself for being so vulnerable, and anger at the endless cycle of survival that left little room for hope.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, Rosie cradled against your chest, her tiny fingers clutching your shirt. She was so innocent, so unaware of the weight that pressed down on you. You fought back tears as you watched her, the small signs of growth reminding you of everything you wished could be different. It felt unfair that she had to grow up in this world without her father, without the love and protection he could provide.

A knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. You looked over, half-expecting to see Joel standing there, but when you opened the door, it was Tommy. His face bore the lines of concern, but you couldn't muster the energy to reciprocate his warmth.

"Hey," he greeted softly, stepping inside and glancing at Rosie, who had fallen asleep against you. “She’s getting so big.”

You forced a smile, but it felt like a mask over the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Yeah," you said, your voice lacking its usual warmth. "She is."

Tommy shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s been tough… I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. “What I’m feeling? I’m feeling like a single mother in a godforsaken world with no sign of the man I love! He should be here with us, Tommy!” Your voice raised, the emotion pouring out like a floodgate unleashed.

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm. “But we’re doing everything we can to find him. You have to believe that.”

You shook your head, stepping away from the door, feeling the walls close in even more. “What’s the point? What if he doesn’t come back? What if he never gets to meet Rosie? I can’t keep living in this limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.”

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “You’re not alone, you know? Maria and I are here for you. We want to help however we can.”

You huffed, crossing your arms defensively. “Help? You can’t bring him back. No one can.” You paused. “Maria is carrying your child, Tommy. You must worry about her.”

“I do. And I also care for my niece and my sister-in-law” he answered.

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but your frustration bubbled just below the surface. “That doesn’t change the fact that Joel should be here. He’s missing, and I can’t just sit back and pretend everything’s fine while you and Maria are about to become parents. It feels… unfair.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious. “I know it’s not easy, but you can’t push us away. We want to be here for you and Rosie. And just because Maria and I are starting a family doesn’t mean we care any less about you. We’re all in this together.”

You turned away, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of his words. Part of you wanted to reject his offer of support, to wallow in your pain and anger, but another part craved the connection and the reassurance that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you felt.

“Why can’t you just understand how hard this is for me?” you said, your voice trembling. “Every time I look at Rosie, I see everything I’ve lost. I can’t bear the thought of loving her and then losing her too.”

Tommy stepped closer, his voice lowering to a gentle tone. “You’re not going to lose her. And you’re not losing Joel either. He’s out there, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. But you have to let us help you through this. It’s okay to be scared, to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through it all alone.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, you let the anger fade just a little, allowing the vulnerability to seep in.

“Okay,” you said quietly, finally letting the walls you’d built start to crumble. “Maybe I don’t know how to be strong all the time. Maybe I do need help.”

Tommy’s face broke into a warm smile, relief washing over him. “Good. Let’s take it one day at a time. I’ll help however I can. We can figure out feeding routines, and I can take care of some chores around here. Just… don’t shut us out.”

You nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the past month’s isolation slowly lifting. It wasn’t that you didn’t want help; it was that the fear of losing Joel had wrapped around you like a shroud, making it hard to see a way forward. But with Tommy’s support, a small crack of light broke through.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggested, his voice lightening a bit. “How about I take Rosie for a bit while you get some rest? You look like you could use it.”

You hesitated, glancing at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overwhelm you with her.”

Tommy chuckled softly, a hint of warmth in his voice. “I promise, I can handle a baby. Besides, I want to get to know my niece. Just give me a moment.”

You reluctantly handed Rosie over, your heart fluttering with both anxiety and relief. Watching as Tommy cradled her, a gentle smile on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in knowing she was with family.

“See? She’s in good hands,” he assured you, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I’ll take good care of her. You just take some time for yourself.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. “Okay. Just for a little while.”

As Tommy settled into the rocking chair with Rosie, you stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. The moment you were alone, you felt the remnants of tension seep from your body, leaving you a bit lighter.

You made your way to the small bathroom, splashing cool water on your face and letting the sensation ground you. Your reflection in the mirror was a reminder of the past weeks — the sleepless nights, the tears, the fear. But beneath it all, you also saw a flicker of resilience.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped back into the living area, where the sounds of Tommy cooing at Rosie filled the space. It was a simple moment, but it felt monumental. You could see how much Tommy genuinely cared, and the thought made your heart swell.

As you joined them, settling onto the couch across from him, you watched the two of them. “What are you talking about?” you asked, a playful curiosity tugging at your lips.

Tommy looked up with a grin. “Just telling her all the stories about her uncle. I was quite the troublemaker, you know.”

“Oh really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine that.”

He laughed; the sound infectious. “You should have seen me. I could charm anyone out of trouble… except for Joel. He always saw right through me.”

You felt a small smile break through as you listened to him reminisce. It was a distraction you desperately needed, a chance to be reminded of the good things in life even amidst the chaos.

As the minutes passed, you began to feel a shift within yourself — a softening of the hard edges that grief had carved into your heart. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they once seemed. Maybe, with time and support, you could learn to navigate this new chapter alongside Rosie, surrounded by family who cared.

And as you watched Tommy bounce Rosie gently, you allowed yourself to entertain a sliver of hope. Perhaps Joel would find his way back to you, and until then, you had a new purpose to embrace, even in the absence of the one you loved.

A few days later, the air in the infirmary was thick with the familiar scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of muted conversations. You sat on a worn-out chair, cradling Rosie in your arms as you watched Paul examine her. The little one was wrapped snugly in a soft blanket, her tiny features serene as she slept.

Paul, focused on his task, checked Rosie’s vitals, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could see the care in his movements, the way he gently examined her delicate limbs and listened to her heartbeat. After a moment, he straightened up, turning his attention to you.

“She’s doing well,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “Gaining weight, which is a good sign. Just keep an eye on her feeding schedule.”

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride. “I’ve been trying my best.”

Paul offered a small smile before his expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Okay,” you replied, bracing yourself for what might come next.

Paul’s gaze dropped, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “See, I told you he wasn’t going to come back.”

The words struck you like a blow, igniting a spark of anger deep within. “What do you mean?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You’re just going to give up on him like that?”

“I'm not giving up,” Paul said quickly, his tone defensive. “I’m trying to prepare you for the reality of this situation.”

“Reality?” you echoed, disbelief flooding your voice. “You think I don’t know what reality is? You think I want to believe he’s gone? I can’t just accept that!”

He held up his hands, trying to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I understand. But holding onto hope for too long can be dangerous. It can lead to more pain.”

“More pain?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You think I haven’t felt pain? You think it doesn’t hurt to think about him every single day, wondering if he’s, okay? Wondering if he’s thinking of us?”

Paul’s expression softened, but the seriousness remained. “I just don’t want you to be hurt even more when the reality sinks in.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, frustration and sorrow bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t get to dictate how I feel, Paul! You can’t just stand there and tell me to give up on someone I love. Joel is out there. I know he is. He wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t abandon me and Rosie.”

“I wish I could believe that as much as you do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you need to face the possibility that he’s not coming back. It’s not about giving up; it’s about being realistic.”

“Realistic?” you shot back, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “You think being realistic means I should stop hoping? That I should stop fighting for him? You’re wrong. If there’s even the slightest chance that he’s out there, I’m not going to let it go. Not now, not ever.”

Paul stepped closer; concern etched on his face. “You can’t do this alone. You need support, and right now, your focus should be on Rosie. She needs you.”

The mention of Rosie made the anger in your chest swirl into something more painful—guilt. “I know she needs me,” you said, your voice dropping. “But how can I be there for her when a part of me feels like it’s dying inside? How can I pretend everything is okay when I’m terrified of what the future holds without him?”

Paul’s expression softened further, and for a moment, you could see the struggle in his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m just trying to help you navigate this. You’re not alone in this fight, and we’re all here for you, ready to support you.”

Taking a deep breath, you felt the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crack. “I don’t want to lose him, Paul. I can’t. Not now, when I finally have a family of my own.”

“Then let us help you,” he urged, his voice earnest. “Let us be your family. We’ll do this together, one day at a time.”

You met his gaze, searching for a glimmer of hope, and found only sincerity. “I don’t know how,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your despair.

“Just start by being present,” he said gently. “For Rosie. For yourself. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. You’re stronger than you think, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

You shook your head, “No. I will never going to feel love for you, Paul”

Paul’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and hurt flashing across his face. “I wasn’t asking you to love me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with disappointment. “I’m just trying to be here for you, to help you through this.”

“Help? You mean take Joel’s place?” you shot back, frustration bubbling over. “I can’t just forget about him, Paul. I won’t. I loved him, and I still do.”

“I get that,” he replied, his tone softening. “But you need to start living for yourself and Rosie. Holding onto Joel’s memory is one thing, but shutting everyone else out is another. You’re pushing away the people who care about you.”

You carefully shifted Rosie in your arms, holding her close as you locked eyes with Paul. “It’s her and me and Tommy and Maria; they are my family,” you said firmly, the protective instinct for your little girl rising within you. “You will never be part of that.”

Paul’s face fell, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. “I understand that you feel this way, but it doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry for being honest about it,” you continued, feeling a mixture of regret and resolve. “But having a daughter and being alone doesn’t make me a damsel in distress. I’m doing the best I can, and I won’t pretend to want something I don’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he took a step back as if your words had physically struck him. “I never thought of you as a damsel in distress. I see your strength, but it’s hard to see you pushing away those who want to help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I appreciate that you care, Paul, but I don’t want help that comes with strings attached,” you insisted. “You may want to be there for me, but I’m not ready for that. My focus is Rosie, and I need to figure this out on my own.”

“I just want to be a part of your life, to support you both,” he replied, his voice softening. “I know it’s not easy, but I can be there for you without trying to replace Joel. I can respect that.”

You felt your heart ache “I said no.”

You felt your heart ache as the weight of his words hung in the air. “I said no,” you reiterated firmly, standing up from the chair, cradling Rosie closer to your chest. “I can’t do this right now, Paul. I need space.”

Paul opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but then he hesitated, the look in his eyes shifting from concern to resignation. “I get it,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just want what’s best for you and Rosie.”

You turned away, the tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “What’s best for me is to be left alone to figure this out. I have to focus on my daughter.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, a mix of hurt and confusion in his expression, but you steeled yourself against it. You couldn’t let the guilt of his disappointment sway your decision.

“I’ll come back for the check-up,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “But I need time to breathe, Paul. Please respect that.”

As you moved toward the door, you felt a pang of regret and relief. You opened the door, taking one last look at him. His expression was concerned and sad, but you knew this was what you needed.

As you stepped back into your small, cozy home, the door closing softly behind you, the weight of the world seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. You looked down at Rosie, her tiny eyes fluttering as she began to settle in your arms. Her soft breath was a reminder that despite everything, there was love and hope right here in your arms.

“Shh, Rosie. We’re home now,” you whispered gently, brushing your lips against her forehead. “It’s just you and me, baby girl. We’re gonna be okay.”

Her little hand gripped your shirt, and the corners of your mouth tugged into a small smile. The bond you felt with her was something no one could break. As you moved toward the rocking chair by the window, the soft glow of the setting sun bathed the room in a warm light. You gently lowered yourself into the chair, cradling Rosie close, rocking her slowly.

"You're so beautiful, Rosie," you murmured, watching her tiny face relax into sleep. "Your daddy would love you so much. He'll love you so much when he gets back. He’s coming back, sweetheart. I know he is."

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that usually made your heart ache with Joel's absence. But tonight, with Rosie in your arms, that silence felt different—more peaceful, fuller. You hummed softly, rocking back and forth as Rosie’s breathing became steadier.

A melody drifted from your lips, a lullaby that Joel had once hummed to you on restless nights:

"Hush now, my darling, close your eyes,

The world is waiting, but not tonight."

Your voice trembled at the end, a lump forming in your throat as you pictured Joel. You imagined him here, sitting beside you, watching Rosie with that rare, soft smile he reserved for moments when his guard was down. He would hold her, kiss her tiny forehead, and tell you everything was going to be alright.

But as you sang, the warmth of Rosie’s little body against yours made you feel stronger than you thought you could be. She was the piece of Joel you held onto, the reminder of the life you were fighting to build, even if he wasn’t here now. You kissed her head, breathing in her soft baby scent, as you whispered the last words of the song:

"Sleep now, my love, you're safe in my arms,

One day you'll see all the world’s gleams.

But for today's, it's just you and me,

And we’ll wait for him, just wait and see."

Tears pricked your eyes, but this time, there was a sense of peace. You had your daughter, and she had you. For now, that was enough.

You rocked Rosie gently, her tiny body sinking deeper into sleep with each passing minute. Her soft breathing was steady, and her hand had finally relaxed its grip on your shirt. Carefully, you rose from the rocking chair, cradling her to your chest as you walked across the room to her crib.

“There you are, baby girl,” you whispered as you placed her down, tucking a blanket around her small form. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, her little face serene in the dim light of the room. For a moment, everything felt calm, as though the world outside didn't exist.

Just as you turned, a quiet knock came from the open door. You spun around to see Tommy standing there, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he whispered, but the sound was still too loud in the quiet room.

You held a finger to your lips, motioning toward the crib. "Shh, Rosie just fell asleep," you murmured, stepping toward him.

Tommy nodded, lowering his voice further. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was just checkin’ in…”

Before you could respond, you noticed someone, standing behind Tommy, half-hidden by the doorframe. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat, your heart pounding in your ears.

It was Joel.

Your mind struggled to process the sight of him, standing there, looking worn and weary but alive. The moment stretched out as if time had slowed. His eyes, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in months, locked onto yours. It was as though the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Ellie was there too, just behind him. Her gaze seemed lost and weary.

Joel took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, but before he could come closer, you found yourself speaking, your voice sharp and surprising even to yourself.

“No.”

He stopped, his expression shifting from relief to confusion. Ellie, standing behind him, looked just as surprised, her eyes wide, and the exhaustion in her posture deepened. The room felt tense, charged with emotions you weren’t ready to face.

“No?” Joel repeated softly, his brows furrowing, unsure of how to respond.

You shook your head, taking a shaky breath. “You left,” you whispered, feeling the weight of months of fear, anger, and hurt bubbling to the surface.

Joel took another cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame. The familiar warmth of his embrace washed over you, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His heartbeat was strong and steady, grounding you in a way you had been desperately missing. Joel’s arms tightened around you as if he were afraid to let go, his grip protective, comforting. He pressed his face against the top of your head, exhaling a shaky breath.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking. The tears came then, spilling over as months of fear, anger, and loneliness poured out of you all at once. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

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[tinydefector]

Human's effects

More a silly little thing that I had to write out.

Warnings: talks about sex, xenophilia, kinks

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

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Human Effects 2 - characters

Request are open

____

There were a lot of things that fascinated the cybertronians over humans. Their size, body types, skin tones and those soft they are. 

So many of them become so fascinated over the fact that such small and fragile creatures don't have plating to protect themselves but only wear soft fabrics. 

And it slowly leads a lot of Cybertronians to realising they were Xenophiles. 

A list of kinks and fetishes cybertronians discovered from it. 

-size kink 

-skin fetish 

- hair pulling 

- silk and ribbon play

- cum inflation 

-breeding

-pet play

- vore

-fluid play and consumption 

- spiking warming

- Heart and spark syncing 

- new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

There's originally a lot of unknowns about humans, and cybertronians are rather intrigued, for one the first times the a lot of the crew of lost light had encountered them was on black market and high priced pets, and companions. 

There were exceptions such as Perceptor, Ratchet and Megatron who had been around humans before but for a lot of the bots this was their first time seeing them. that is until they are assigned a human communications, relations Ambassador/ liaison. 

But after the black market incident it had led a lot of bots into research over humans. And it just spirals more with them discovering some rather dark history with cybertronians keeping humans as playthings. And finding out their ‘interface equipment’ isn't that different from their own, just more organic and smaller.  

A late night of drinking at swerve slowly devolved into conversation over their local human. Brainstorm sits nursing his drink of engex while he and others of the ship chat away. "So does it fascinate anyone else over the fact that humans don't have natural plating or any kind of protection for their squishy form?" He brings up, he himself had fallen down the rabbit hole of human porn but didn't quite know how to breach the subject with anyone else. 

"Oh Primus, look who decided to join us, thought you were holding up with your Conjunx Chrome!" Swerve said with a chuckle, placing more drinks down. He hopped up onto one of the bar stools and leaned in eagerly, His attention flicks to Brainstorm. "You bring up a good point, Brainstorm," Swerve replied.

 "Those squishy humans are really something else, ain't they? No armour, no defences - I'd be scared outta my circuits if I was just soft protoform all the time!, like i’m so surprised squishy hasn't been stepped on yet" 

Rodimus nodded in agreement. "Yet they've managed to survive just fine so far. There's obviously more to them than meets the eye. Like i've seen some of the things our ambassador can do like the strange stretching"

"I dunno," Skids chimed in. "Seems pretty fraggin' reckless if you ask me. One good shot and it lights out!" 

Rewind shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about all those organics and tubes and who knows what else squishing around in there makes my fuel tank turn." He made a dramatic churning sound effect.

Riptide laughed. "I saw a nature documentary once about these hairless ape creatures the humans evolved from. Now THOSE guys were squishy."

“What in Primus have you been watching?!” 

“some old earth docs that Percy’s has, bots got a lot of info on Terra and the planet's history” The bots shared a collective laugh at the image. Swerve took a swig of his energon. "Frag, maybe there's something to be said about living on the edge like that! Sure keeps things interesting, its still strange that they are somehow one of the top predators of their planet yet are smaller than half the things they eat"

Brainstorm goes quiet for a moment. "Have you seen how flexible they are?"

Swerve nearly spit out his energon. "Whoa hey, I don't need those kinds of vivid imagery floatin' around my processor thank you very much!, keep the squishy interface vids to yourself" he said, waving his hands animatedly. 

"You have to admit, the way those fleshbags can contort themselves is pretty impressive," Skids added. "Must come in handy for.. maintenance." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively.

Brainstorm nodded pensively. "Indeed. Their non-metal structure allows for feats we could never replicate by ourselves." He took a sip of his energon. "Always makes me curious what other evolutionary adaptations they've developed to compensate for such vulnerability. The potential for scientific discovery is endlessly fascinating with their species and ancestors."

Riptide shrugged. "As long as they don't expect ME to try any of their bone-breaking yoga moves," he laughed. "This chassis is meant for tough stuff, not Twister!"

"You think they would be soft, you know if you interface with one?" Brainstorm asked while downing his drink, the engex was slowly going to his processor loosening his lips. 

"Oh don't give me that look I know for a fact you all have thought about doing with a human at least once! Rodimus I know for a fact you eye them up everytime our little liaison walks past you" He calls out Rodimus. 

Rodimus nearly choked on his energon in an attempt to look innocent. "Wh-what? That's not - I never -" he sputtered in protest, flustered optics darting around at the other bots.

Brainstorm smirked as Rodimus squirmed uncomfortably on the stool. "Oh please, don't try to deny it, Captain. You're about as subtle as a combiner in a supply closet." 

"Roddy's got the hots for squishy, who knew!" Swerve giggled uncontrollably. 

Skids nudged Riptide playfully. "Hey, maybe we got a xenophiliac on the ship!" 

"Alright alright, knock it off you glitches," Rodimus growled, though the blue flush across his face said otherwise. "I was just... curious, that's all. They ARE a strange species."

Swerve tried to contain his laughter. "Ohhh I bet you are more than curious, if you catch my drift!, wanna get up close and personal" More raucous peals of laughter from the group.

Brainstorm stroked his chin in thought. "They do feel intriguingly delicate. I wonder if their flexible frames would be more pleasurable to interface with than our own rigid forms..."

"Have you seen videos of them, they stretch a lot, like a lot, like I know human skin is resilient but i didn't think they were that resilient " Brainstorm states remembering some of the videos he had seen online. Other bots peak up intrigued. 

Swerve choked again as his fuel tank nearly turned inside out. "Brainstorm! That's... more than I needed to visualise, thank you very much." 

Skids seemed a bit less phased. "Fleshbags gettin' their twist on, huh? Can't say I'm not curious now." 

Even Rodimus seemed intrigued despite his earlier protests. "Resilient is an   understatement. I've seen some of the contortions that humans can do - it's astounding that their protoforms don't tear apart." 

Brainstorm nodded enthusiastically. "Precisely! With the right lubrication and technique, I hypothesise an interface with a limber human form would provide entirely novel sensory data."

Riptide shifted uncomfortably. "Not sure I'm ready to dive into the fleshy deep end just yet.”  

Swerve shot him a sly grin. "Aw c'mon Rip, live a little! Where's your sense of adventure?" 

Rodimus tried to steer the subject elsewhere. "Let's maybe change topics before someone needs a wipe down. Or Primus forbid, Magnus overhears you lot"

"I hope I did not hear what my processor just heard" Ultra Magnus states while staring down at the group of drinking mechs. A Lot of bots in the bar snicker at the group getting in trouble. 

"Come on Sir, get that wrench out of you aft, join us!" Skids called out.

Swerve let out an audible squeak at Ultra Magnus's stern tone, almost dropping his engex in panic. "U-Um, Magnus sir! Fancy seeing you here. We were just, uh, discussing..." 

He shot desperate optics at the others for help, but they all seemed to shrink down in their seats under Magnus's disapproving glare. 

Rodimus flashed an uneasy grin. "Just having a friendly debate about alien species, you know how it is. Brainstorm was bringing up some, er, interesting biological points..." 

Ultra Magnus sighed wearily. "I'd rather not know the details, thank you. Some topics are best left undiscussed in public."

The whole bar erupted into laughter at the group's misfortune. "Ah lay off em Magnus!" one patron called out. "They're just havin' fun!"

Another bot piped up. "Yeah, loosen up that rusty chassis and join us! One drink won't hurt." 

Magnus scowled, unamused. But as the encouragement grew louder, he glanced around hesitantly...

Swerve spotted an opening. "C'mon Magnus, live a little! I'll even give you a two-for-one special." He flashed a hopeful grin.

The enforcer grumbled but his resolve was cracking. Against his better judgement, he pulled up a stool. "One drink." Swerve whooped and poured him a double.

They cheer as Magnus sits down to drink with them. Skids speak up. "So brainstorm you saying you'd hook up with a fleshy, get nice and personal with a human" he calls out with a laugh.

Brainstorm leaned forward eagerly. "Why of course! The pursuit of scientific knowledge knows no boundaries. Though upon further review, direct interfacing with an organic might require certain, ah, safety protocols." 

Skids peered at him suspiciously. "Exactly what kind of 'research' are you plannin' on doing Brainy?"

Swerve nudged Riptide with a smirk. "I'll bet ya 20 shanix Brainstorm's just trying to find an excuse to get jiggy with the humies!"

Riptide snorted. "No way, I ain't takin' THAT bet!" 

Rodimus dropped his face in his palms with a groan. "can we PLEASE stop picturing Brainstorm fragging humans?" 

Ultra Magnus coughed on his engex, catching the comment he'd really rather not have heard. 

But Brainstorm paid them no mind, lost in scientific contemplation. "The human capacity for sensory input and feedback would provide a rich study on cross-species interface protocol adaptability..."

"INTERFACE PROTOCOLS?!" Swerve shrieked. The table erupted into howls of laughter at Magnus's deeply uncomfortable expression. It was going to be a LONG night indeed.

“Primus Brainstorm you kinky fragger” 

"Fine then everyone servo up if your not at least somewhat curious or thought about it at least once" Brainstorm calls out to all of Swerve's bars patrons

"Oooh, Brainstorm's putting us all on the spot!" Swerve giggled with gleeful mischief. He raised his servo without hesitation. 

Skids was quick to follow suit, slamming his half-empty glass down. "Frag it, I'll admit it! Those soft squishy bodies got me wonderin' what else they're good for." 

To everyone's surprise, Rodimus sheepishly lifted a servo as well, avoiding optic contact with Ultra Magnus. Riptide shrugged and joined in the show of servos, if only to blend in. 

The majority of bots in the bar started raising their hands amid roars of laughter and drunken encouragement. Only a select few hesitated, shooting nervous glances at Magnus. 

The enforcement officer's expression cycled through outrage, resignation and back to outrage as his gaze swept over the forest of raised servos. "I cannot condone such deviant interest in alien biologies," he protested, voice stiff. 

But as more servos stayed stubbornly aloft, Magnus sagged with a weary sigh. After a long moment, he slowly, begrudgingly raised one massive hand as well. 

The bar erupted into ear-splitting cheers. Swerve howled with glee, banging his fists on the counter. "Look's like we've all got a bit of xenophile in us after all! Even you, Magnus my mech!" 

Magnus buried his faceplate in his servos as Brainstorm cackled maniacally. Once the bar settles back down its Swerve who speaks up with a smirk on his faceplate. "So... which one of you charming mechs are gonna be the first to try and get our lovely Liaison?" He teases. 

Rodimus sputtered into his drink at Swerve's question, flushing brighter. "W-what? I never said anything about actually doing anything!, it's all just fantasies Swerve!" he protested in a hissed tone. 

Skids rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, well they do have a cute lil' figure. Bet they'd be a wild ride..." 

Swerve grinned slyly at Rodimus. "Aw c'mon Captain, don't tell me you ain't thought about it at least once! I bet they'd be real fun to break in, get all soft and pliable..." 

Rodimus smacked Swerve upside the helm. "Knock it off!" He shot a pleading glance at Ultra Magnus as if begging for rescue.

But unexpectedly, Brainstorm was the one who spoke up. "While the organic's flexibility is intriguing, directly interfacing could introduce unknown health risks or cultural taboos. Outside the fact our people have kept humans as pets and companions in the past. A more ethical approach would be gaining consent for strictly observational research."  

Riptide frowned. "Not sure the liaison would go for that either Storm" 

Swerve sighed dreamily. "Just imagine wrapping those soft squishy bits all around you though... bet they'd feel amazing..."  

"SWERVE." Magnus's warning tone silenced the cheeky bartender immediately. He turned back to Rodimus with a sigh. "Despite certain... Curiosities, directly engaging an organics  such a manner would be unwise, dangerous even, not to mention our form are much larger and could harm a human."

Rewind nodded gratefully at Magnus, relieved the subject was shifting. But the mischievous glint in Swerve's optic suggested his teasing wasn't over yet. It was going to be a long night indeed.

"Relax Mags I'm just riling these drunk mech up. Unless you're interested in our sweet little ambassador" he teases, making other bots choke on their drinks. 

Ultra Magnus's icy glare could have frozen Swerve's energon. "Need I remind you this conversation is highly inappropriate and unprofessional," he said sternly. 

But to everyone's surprise, Rodimus let out an undignified snort of laughter. "As if Magnus would ever break protocol like that! He'd probably recite the entire Autobot code of conduct while fragging."

The whole bar erupted in howls of mirth at the mental image. 

Swerve was nearly rolling on the floor. "Can you imagine?! 'Paragraph 3, subsection B clearly states interfacing with sentient aliens requires prior diplomatic clearance forms in triplicate!'" he cried in a mockingly stiff voice. 

Skids were wiping away fuel tears. "Primus if MR. RULES AND REGS ever broke the rules, it'd be one for the history archives!" 

Riptide jabbed Skids in the side. "Ten shanix says he'd have them memorising regulations the whole time!" 

"Twenty shanix says they'd run screaming first!" Swerve shot back. 

The bets and ribbing escalated as more mechs joined in. Across the table, Rodimus shoved Magnus playfully. "C'mon Magnus, live on the wild side for once!" 

Magnus's rumbling huff was the only response. Watching his rigid commander finally loosening up filled Swerve with delight. Somehow, some way, he'd find a way to get Magnus to break protocol yet! It was shaping up to be the best night ever.

"Ohhh let's make this fun. I list some bots and you say if you think they would hook up with a human" Riptide states. "Rung, Drift and Ratchet" he calls out the names.

Swerve let out a dramatic gasp. "Ooh spicy!"

"Rung is definitely curious but way too professional. Might let loose over a couple cubes of engex though!" 

Skids broke into hysterics at Riptide's suggestions. "Rung and a HUMAN?! Rung doesn't even touch his OWN interface panel!" 

Rodimus snorted. "Can you imagine? 'My dear, it seems you're experiencing some psychological interfacing blockers. Please, tell me how that makes you feel.'" 

"Drift guy's definitely intrigued by other species, if you know what I mean. Plus he's artsy so he'd probably appreciate the 'aesthetic'." Swerve responds

"Drift might go for it, he's open to new experiences," Rodimus mused with a grin. 

Brainstorm nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, his spiritual philosophies suggest an openness to cultural exchange that others may lack. I think if he and ratchet weren't together its something he might try" 

"Ratchet. bah! As if that grumpy old rust-bucket would try anything so illogical. Unless she's a doctor too and starts quoting his favourite protocols... then all bets are off!" Skids laughed. 

"Ratchet? Nah, too much of a hard aft. He'd just bitch about human biohazards the whole time," Swerve giggled. 

"Well if Drift was interested I'm pretty sure that mecn could get ratchet to do anything with the bat of his optics" Rodimus remarks.

The table erupted in raucous laughter. Swerve took a playful bow. "Alright bring on the next victims!" 

Riptide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, how about...Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl?" 

Swerve cackled wickedly. "Tailgate would be way too nervous but he'd try for his Conjunx Cyclonus. Cyclonus would 100% use his broody vibes to charm her pants off but only for Tailgate. And Whirl? He doesn't interface, he destroys! So that liaison better watch her interfacing ports around that lunatic!" 

Chromedome interjects stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tailgate would be way too nervous and shy, I think. He'd probably short-circuit just from holding hands!" 

Riptide nodded. "Cyclonus has always struck me as the kinky type. Wonder if he's into those squishy bits like Brainstorm thinks..."

"Whirl would frag anything that moves," Rodimus interjected with a grimace. "But I don't think an organic would survive the experience!"

Brainstorm stroked his chin. "Indeed, Whirl's interfacing protocol subroutines seem rather...enthusiastic. Consent might be a fleeting concept. Better to observe from a safe distance." 

Swerve shuddered. "Ugh, don't make me picture that psycho getting 'friendly' with a human! I'm tryna keep my fuel down y'know." 

The names continue being dropped. 

 " First Aid! I don't know if the medic-bot's got it in him to break the rules. But I betcha if he did, he'd be real gentle and caring-like. He'd have them feelin' better than new in no time!" 

Skids grinned devilishly. "Yeah but would they feel better? Aid's so straight and narrow I bet he'd put em in stasis lock from boredom!" 

"Now Perceptor on the other hand..." Swerve tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Bookish type, but you know there's a passionate scientist in there waiting to experiment. Think he'd go slow and methodical, really take his time 'exploring the specimen'." 

"his thirst for organic sciences might overpower his good sense," Rewind remarks. 

“optimus prime, Prowl and bumblebee ” Chromedome interjects with his own inquiries. 

Swerve pretended to wipe away exhaust fumes. "Primus help me, this is gonna be good... Optimus Prime is obviously Mister Morality himself, but you know he's got a secret wild side under all that virtue signalling. Just imagine how freaky he could get with some alien nookie!" 

The bar erupted in incredulous, drunken laughter and cheers. Swerve grinned impishly. 

"As for Prowl, I'm telling you that stick up his tailpipe is begging to come out and play. One roll in the berth with a naughty fleshy and he'd loosen up reeeal nice!" 

"And Bee? He's a sweet kid, but you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones! Between his cute lil' face and that tight chassis, he'd have the human lining up to frag that glitch right into stasis!" 

The bar absolutely lost it, bots falling over each other in drunken hysterics. Even Mirage was struggling not to fall off his chair. Swerve took an exaggerated bow as his audience howled. 

"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all cycle! Now who's ready for the next round?" More shouts and clanking glasses answered his call. It was shaping up to be the wildest night at Swerve's yet!

 Magnus dropping Megatron's name that really sent them over the edge.

"Megatron?! With the liaison?!" Rodimus howled with laughter, nearly spitting out his drink. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all cycle!" 

But Swerve wasn't done. "Megatron? Now THAT'S an image! 'You pathetic fleshbag, you DARE try to mount the great Megatron?! Grovel before my interface array!'" 

Magnus adds more information which makes everyone surprised " He and the ambassador are rather close" He states

Rewind speaks up from Chromedome’s side. "Y'know... they do have a certain chemistry. I'll bet under all that scowling and chipped armour there's a softie just waitin' for the right tender touch to melt his spark. And they have got sass to spare  bet they could handle Megatron's brooding and snarl!" 

"Twenty shanix says he'd have them trembling and beggin' for mercy in no time flat!" Skids bet eagerly. 

"You're on!" crowed Riptide. "But I still think Perceptor's the real dark horse..."

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hi. Can you write something spicy with Wrecker x f! reader with the prompt 62. “Is that my shirt?” Maybe reader needs new clothes during a mission and she forgets her spares on Kamino, leading her to wear Wrecker's. She takes advantage of the situation to tease him a little, but we know Wrecker is a little innocent, until Crosshair opens his eyes.. "If you don't fu** her, I will." 😂

Hi,

Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely loved writing it!

What's Mine is Yours

While working on a mission on Corellia, a clothing mishap leads to much more than you anticipated.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: accidental clothes sharing, reader described as busty, lewd comment as motivation (one guess who it comes from…), confession of feelings, idiots in love, first kiss, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected PiV, squint for size and strength kink.

“Where the hell is it?” You huff, hands scrambling through your backpack as you pull out your belongings, scattering them across the dresser in the dingy hotel room.

You and the boys had been sent to Bela Vistal, a small mountain city on Corellia. The Jedi had caught wind of a shady auction, with whispers of a Holocron up for grabs. It was your job as a squad to scope the place out, gather as much intel as possible, and strike and extract the Holocron if the opportunity presented itself.

By now, you’re used to working with limited information. As a civilian handler, it was your job to fill in the blanks and help the boys with anything they needed to successfully complete their missions – something you’d spent over a year doing remarkably well at. Today that had included wandering around the city with Tech, pretending to be together – out of them all, his appearance was less likely to arouse suspicion. You’d conversed politely with market vendors and cantina owners, asking subtle questions to discover more about the auction.

Ultimately, it had been a fruitless endeavour, and the pair of you had returned to the hotel as the sun had been setting, food in hand. You’d excused yourself after eating, slipping back into your room via the door connecting the two rooms you’d rented for a quick shower.

And now here you were, furiously rifling through your belongings for a clean shirt. You’d packed one; you swore you had. Fingers finding soft fabric, you let out a small noise of triumph, prying the material from your backpack. Towel falling to the floor, you shimmed on a clean pair of panties and some sleep shorts before dragging on the top. Only once it was over your head did you realise something was off. Either you’d suddenly lost a lot of weight or…

Scrambling for the neckline, you twist and turn until you can see the tag and the large ‘W’ sewn into it. “Dank farrik.” You mutter, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the realisation that you’d somehow packed Wrecker’s shirt instead of your own.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror on the back of the fresher door. The oversized garment hit mid-thigh, the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. The only saving grace was that your boobs took up enough room that it gave the shirt a little bit of shape. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The thought of going out into the field wearing Wrecker’s clothing was hilarious, but your laughter soon subsided as you really looked at yourself. Oversized it might be, but it almost…suited you. And though it was clean, you lifted the collar to your nose and inhaled, picking up on a sweet scent that seemed to linger on all of Wrecker’s belongings.

You’d found great comfort in that scent over the last few months, drawn towards Wrecker and his infectious grin. Lips tugging into a smile, a tender warmth spread through you as you thought about the countless times Wrecker had been there to lighten the mood with his quips and laughter and how his protective nature made you feel secure amid the uncertainties of life.

The realisation of what your feelings meant hit you like a wave, and as you stood there, a myriad of emotions swirled within you. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by a soft, introspective silence. As you continued to gaze at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the depth of your connection with Wrecker. It went beyond the professional companionship forged across dangerous missions. It was something more personal, something that had quietly grown amidst the chaos of your work.

“Oh, kriff…” You whisper, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection. The sound of a knock on the connecting door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn towards it, momentarily forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. Smoothing down the fabric, you move across to open the door, revealing Hunter.

“Thought you might’ve drowned.” He quips as the door opens; your showers never usually take so long. Gaze dropping down, Hunter takes in the sight of you, chuckling. “Well, looks like you’re drowning, alright.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong shirt in our hurry to leave Kamino.” You admit sheepishly, feeling warmth in your cheeks as Hunter steps aside, revealing you to his brothers.

To his credit, Tech offers you a reassuring smile while Crosshair snorts in amusement. But it’s Wrecker’s reaction that catches you off guard the most.

Wrecker’s eyes widen as his gaze rakes down your body. “I-Is that my shirt?” He asks, swallowing thickly. Heat creeps across his cheeks as he admires you, the curves of your body making it look entirely different than it did on him. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart, and for a moment, the room is filled with an almost tangible tension. Wrecker stands frozen, his eyes locked onto you.

“Yeah, I, uh, must’ve grabbed it by mistake.” You stammer, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Wrecker blinks, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair. Hunter raises an eyebrow, clearly finding the situation entertaining but not commenting further. Tech adjusts his goggles, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Crosshair smirks, thoroughly amused. Clearing his throat, Wrecker manages to break the silence. “Well, it looks... good on ya.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and you catch a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. You give a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Thanks, Wreck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

“Nah, keep it.” He says quickly, almost too quickly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The room falls into another awkward silence as Wrecker scratches the back of his head, unsure how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It’s rare to see the big, boisterous man at a loss for words.

Hunter, always the pragmatist, breaks the tension. “Alright, enough of the fashion show. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

The seriousness of the mission looms over the room, momentarily overshadowing the awkwardness. You gather around the table, holomaps of the city and your datapads spread out as you discuss the action plan.

As the discussion progresses, Wrecker finds his eyes straying to you often, trying to commit the vision of you in his clothes to memory, the way it drapes over your frame and the subtle scent of your shampoo that he knows will linger on the garment now too.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks – the feelings he’s been trying to suppress, the concern that goes beyond the missions, the warmth he feels when you’re around – it’s all there, staring him in the face.

Wrecker clears his throat again, attempting to focus on the plan you’re all hashing out, not the crazy beating of his heart. He chimes in enthusiastically, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. As the planning continues, Wrecker catches the knowing look Tech throws him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to concentrate. He wonders if you feel the same, if the newfound awareness is mutual.

Finally, the planning ends, and with your usual round of goodnights, you’re back in your room, the connecting door firmly shut. Only once you’re gone does Wrecker feel like he can breathe again.

“Real subtle there, big guy,” Hunter comments, giving Wrecker’s shoulder a pat as he passes him.

“What?” Wrecker questions, playing dumb. He’s not quite ready to admit his feelings to his brothers; he’s just starting to come to terms with the recent revelation.

None of them are fooled. Tech reaches up, adjusting his goggles. “You were admiring her quite intently.” He points out.

“I would, too, if she were wearing my shirt.” Crosshair chimes in, leaning back on the small couch in the room, propping his feet up on the table as he feels Wrecker’s eyes narrow in his direction. “But hey, if you won’t kriff her, I will.” He comments, unafraid to poke the bear.

In sync, Hunter and Tech facepalm.

A flash of anger courses through Wrecker. “You wouldn’t.” He growls, hating the very idea. 

“Wouldn’t I?” Crosshair goads. “She’s a pretty little thing. Bet she’d looked even prettier underne-“

“Hey!” Wrecker’s sharp shout cuts him off. “You don’t talk about her like that. She deserves better, and I won’t let ya disrespect her. Not when she’s the best thing to happen to us in a long while and always lookin’ out for us.”

Amusement curls at Crosshair’s lips. Truth told, forcing those words out had been horrible – he respected you too much – but it had given him the ammunition he needed to make his point. “Hm, sounds like you might have some feelings there, Wrecker.”

Realising he’s been caught in one of his younger brother’s traps, Wrecker groans in frustration, shooting Crosshair a glare that bounces straight off him. With a sigh, Wrecker’s shoulders sag, and he glances over his shoulder towards the connecting door to your room.

Worry curls through him. He did have feelings for you, that much he’d realised, but he wasn’t sure how you felt. The thought of making things awkward or disrupting the dynamics of the squad by introducing personal feelings weighed heavily on Wrecker’s mind.

Hunter picks up on his brother’s internal struggle. “Wrecker, if you’ve got something to say to her, just say it. We’re all adults here. We’ve faced worse than admitting feelings.”

Wrecker sighs. “I just don’t wanna mess things up, y’know? What if she don’t feel the same way, and it makes things weird?”

Tech chips in with his usual logical perspective. “Statistically speaking, relationships formed within a close-knit team can enhance cooperation and overall performance. Emotional bonds can be beneficial.”

Wrecker shoots Tech an incredulous look. “You suggestin’ I tell her I like her ’cause it’s statistically beneficial?”

Tech pushes his goggles back up his nose. “I am merely presenting a logical argument in favour of expressing one’s emotions.”

A noise of frustration slides from Crosshair’s lips, and he pushes himself off the couch. Grabbing Wrecker by the arm, he drags him over to the connecting door, banging his fist against it a few times. “She was eyeing you up, too. Don’t overthink. That’s Tech’s job.” He insists, returning to the couch, shaking his head while muttering about Wrecker’s lack of game.

Hearing you say the door was unlocked, Wrecker takes a deep breath before pushing it open, sliding into your room, letting it click shut behind him.

With Wrecker gone, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair exchange glances before arranging themselves on the couch to play Sabacc. “You swapped her shirt out of her pack,” Hunter comments as Tech deals the deck, his eyes darting over to Crosshair.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Crosshair doesn’t bother answering; instead, he picks up his cards. Hunter couldn’t prove anything.

Looking up from the dresser, where you’d been trying to organise your belongings back into your backpack, you smile at the sight of Wrecker standing with his back pressed to the door. “Hey, Wreck. Everything okay?” You ask, abandoning your repacking to give the gentle giant your full attention.

Wrecker’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps further into your room, the weight of the revelation he’d shared with his brothers settling in his chest. He grapples with the best way to express his feelings to you, scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine.” He mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment. “I, um, just wanted to talk to ya about somethin’.”

You tilt your head curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Wrecker took another deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Well, it’s about... us. I mean, you and me. I’ve been feelin’ things, and I just gotta say it. I really like you. I like ya a lot.”

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and your heartbeat quickens in response. Surprise paints your face, delight seeping into your veins that your feelings were returned – that he’d come here to share them with you.

“Wreck.” You begin, your voice soft. “I’ve... I’ve been feeling the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washes over Wrecker’s features, and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. “Really?” he asks as if confirming that he wasn’t dreaming.

You nod, your own smile mirroring his. “Really.”

Wrecker chuckles nervously. “Well, guess Crosshair wasn’t entirely wrong about us eyein’ each other up.”

Your jaw drops a little. You’d thought you were being subtle, but you should’ve known the man with super-human vision would catch you out.

Wrecker takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his large hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “I’m not great with words, but I really do care about ya.” He confesses.

“I care about you too, Wreck. And you don’t need to be great with words.” You reply, your eyes locked with his. “Actions speak louder.”

“Then let me show ya.” Wrecker murmurs, head dipping down to kiss your lips tenderly. Large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. One of your hands finds home at the nape of his neck, keeping his lips against yours as the other settles on his upper arm.

You taste like heaven, like everything Wrecker has ever wanted and dreamed about. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly, but he’s cautious, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. The kiss breaks a moment later, eyes locked on one another as you pull apart, chests heaving. Desire swirls in your gaze, and Wrecker wants to worship you. But he’s conflicted – is this too soon? Do you want this too?

Palms smoothing across Wrecker’s body, you take his hands in your own, walking backwards the few steps to the bed. Sinking to sit on the edge of it, you guide Wrecker down with you, a thrill zinging through you as he wraps an arm around your middle and hauls you further up the bed before settling above you. With one hand supporting most of his weight, you marvel at how warm and broad he is, your body hidden under his as he presses against you, lips finding yours again for a searing kiss.

You’re so small beneath him, so delicate and so pretty, with your hair fanned across the sheets, your beautiful eyes looking up at him with such adoration. Wrecker can’t resist kissing you again, savouring your shared feelings. Tentatively, his hand roams to your thighs, large palm smoothing across soft skin, creeping up, ruching his shirt as his fingers skim under the edge of your sleep shorts.

The gentle touch makes your breath stutter, a low noise sliding from your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Wrecker pulls back, watching as your eyes flutter open. “Too much, babe?” He asks quietly, unsure whether the noise is good and not wanting to push too much.

Shaking your head, you lean up to pepper kisses across his jawline. “More. Please.” You ask, heat building in your belly.

Thrilled, Wrecker breaks out into a grin, shivering as your hands pry his shirt up and off his body. Your fingers fan over his bare chest, tracing every muscle and scar. His pants are next to be discarded, your sleep shorts joining them on the floor before your lips meet again in a needy kiss. Your panties go, followed by his boxers, but as you go to remove his shirt, Wrecker’s fingers still the action.

“Leave it on, babe.” He admits, a flush on his cheeks. There was something so intrinsically hot about you wearing his clothes.

A noise of delight leaves you, followed quickly by one of surprise as Wrecker rolls you both, placing himself beneath you. Straddling him, it’s impossible to ignore the press of his thick, hard cock. It feels enormous, and you’re almost afraid to look down.

Thankfully, you’re spared as Wrecker grabs your ass, huge hands dwarfing it as he hauls you up his body.

Wrecker groans, hands squeezing as he draws you further up. “Want you to sit on my face, babe. Lemme eat that pretty pussy before I kriff ya.”

Heat strikes through you, pussy clenching around nothing at Wrecker’s request. “I-I don’t wanna suffocate you.” You worry as you’re lifted over his face, knees on either side of his head. Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as he stares right at your cunt.

“Ya won’t. And even if you do, what a way to go.” Wrecker growls, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazes up at your pussy. Gently, he encourages you down, groaning in satisfaction as you rest lightly against his face – nose and mouth brushing against your slick folds. “That ain’t sittin’.” He grumbles as he notices you trying to hold up some of your weight. Using a little more of his strength, he pulls you down until you’re firmly against his face, his nose pressed to your clit as his tongue laves over your entrance.

“Oh, hells…” You cry out, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other lands on Wrecker’s head. That first lick of his tongue had felt incredible.

Wrecker feasts, your pussy his new favourite meal. The taste of you fills his mouth, and he moans, dragging his nose across your clit, tongue sloppy as he laves at you before pointing it and pressing it into your hole. He takes a breath whenever he can, drawing the flat of his tongue up through your folds to flick across your clit, lips latching around the sensitive bud so he can suck on it, brushing his tongue over it at the same time.

White hot pleasure is all you can feel, hips rocking as you ride his face, chasing your high. Your hand strokes across his head, fingers gliding over scarred skin. “Kriff, Wreck. Yes. Just like that.” You encourage, pleasure building quickly.

The stretch catches you off guard, two of his thick fingers pressing into you, crooking, as his mouth focuses on your clit. Head thrown back, his name falls from your lips as you come, thighs shaking and pussy spasming around his fingers as the pleasure rolls through your body.

Working you through the high, Wrecker gently pries his mouth off your clit, fingers slowly scissoring as he stretches you out a little more now that you’re more relaxed. He knows he’s big, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

Your hips roll slowly, grinding lazily against his face once again as he continues working you open, another thick finger joining the two already buried inside you. Biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan, the trembles from your orgasm subside.

Fingers slip from you, hands finding your hips. Lifted, you’re moved back down Wrecker’s body until he can kiss you, mouth and chin covered in your juices. You gasp at the taste, at the way his tongue presses into your mouth, and you lazily make out.

Slowly you draw apart; Wrecker’s fingers that weren’t buried in your pussy move to push your hair out of your face tenderly.

The throb between your thighs intensifies, and you lift your hips, shifting until you can grind down against Wrecker’s cock. The rumble in his chest does funny things to your inside, and you smile. “I wanna ride your cock, too.” You state sweetly, enjoying the delight that flares in Wrecker’s eyes.

Scooting back just a little so you rest on his thighs, you drag your gaze from his face to finally take in his cock. It’s much thicker than any you’ve seen before – in person and on the holonet – and longer than average.

He curves a little to the right, the tip flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum in the slit. Taking him in hand, his groan reverberates through the room, and you can’t help but dip down to lap at him, the tang on your tongue dragging a sound from you that Wrecker echoes.

Your fingers don’t touch around him, and for a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him. Shuffling forward a tiny bit until you’re back in your previous position, you line him up with your entrance, pressing just the tip in, and slowly start to sink down, letting gravity do the work.

Wrecker’s pretty sure he’s shaking – from anticipation or barely-there control, he’s not sure. All he does know is that his hands are wrapped around your hips to help guide you but not force you down, and inch by agonising inch, his dick is slowly being enveloped in the heat of your pussy.

The stretch burns a little, even after an orgasm and three fingers working you open. Taking your time, you let out deep breaths as you sink down until you’re finally flush, feeling fuller than ever. 

“Stars above, Wreck.” You pant, holding his gaze as you adjust to the feeling. His jaw is clenched, soft brown eyes looking at you with such profound adoration, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. His hands on your hips slide upward, under the edge of his shirt, until he’s grasping at your waist.

Steadily, you give a small roll of your hips, rising ever so slightly before sinking back down. The action pulls a moan from you, Wrecker’s head tilting back against the bed, his groan mingling with your needy sounds. Finding a rhythm, you lean back a little, hands resting on his muscular thighs as warmth builds in your belly with every rise and fall. The burn of the stretch dissolves into pleasure.

Chin tilting down, Wrecker watches as you ride him, how your lips part with every little whimper and sigh, and your tits bounce beneath his shirt. The sight goes straight to his cock, hand sliding up from your waist until he can palm your breasts under the garment, fingers pressed against soft flesh. You’re a handful, even for him, and he grunts, thumb and forefinger tweaking your pebbled nipples.

The whine you let out is delicious, and his gaze roves down your body, settling on where the two of you are connected, watching how he slides in and out of your pussy. The sight, the sounds, and the feeling of you around him push him closer and closer to the edge. Fingers smoothing back down your body, they press against your clit, firm circles rubbed against the sensitive nub.

“Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.” You curse, eyes screwed shut as the warmth grows towards an inferno. Pitching forward, you change the angle, hands resting against his broad chest, providing better leverage as your pace quickens. Your thighs start to ache, but you’ll be damned if you let that stop you.

“That’s it, babe. Hells, your pussy feels so kriffin’ good.” Wrecker pants, his words helping push you over the edge. Your body goes taut above him, pleasure contorting your face as you clamp down around him, coming on his cock with a cry of his name. He keeps his fingers moving, working you through the high until the tremors in your body stop and your hazy eyes open to meet his.

You share a soft smile, and Wrecker surges up, lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as he grasps back at your hips. Holding you in place, his hips snap quickly as he fucks up into you, chasing his high now you’ve been satisfied.

Tongues meeting, the kiss is frantic and messy, noises muffled by each other’s lips. You pull back just enough to gaze down at him. “Come in me. Please.” Your needy whine reverberates around the room.

You were perfect. So perfect. Your pleading words, the grip of your tight pussy around him… Wrecker’s thrusts falter, and with two more sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes himself deep inside you, growling out your name as he’s swept into pleasure, filling you.

The room falls silent except for your harsh breaths, gazes locked before you steal another kiss. Slower and softer, the lust dissolves into something sweeter. Strong arms wrap around you, and you’re rolled onto your side, pulled flush against Wrecker’s body as he pries his lips from yours. He smiles, and you can’t help but match it, a giggle bubbling up and out. The sound of Wrecker’s chuckle melds with yours, happiness simmering between you.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, one hand smoothing across your cheek, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch with a small nod, eyes fluttering shut. Wrecker’s hand is warm against your face as he caresses you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The aftermath of shared intimacy leaves you feeling content and connected.

Overjoyed, Wrecker presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, hand sliding down your body to wrap back around you as he holds you close. Now he has you, he’s never going to let you go.

In the cocoon of his embrace, you slowly drift into a serene slumber, knowing you’ve found a sanctuary that feels like home in his arms.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal

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[mvjerbs]

Prince Ballister

SO OK WJJDJFJ this au is literally making me giddy just by thinking about it. So here it is (name), I know you wanted to hear mine.

like every royal and noble family, one must birth to an heir to continue their legacy. 

unfortunately, the queen is unable to make one because she's infertile.

she resorts to adopting an heir which made the director protest because it must be biological, so she tried to convince the queen to keep on trying but the queen made up her mind.

One day she strolled through the market where she first meets Ballister.

in this au, Ballister never had the dream to be a knight. But all he wanted to do is to help others to try and make their situation better

the queen saw Ballister buying bread with his own money that he worked hard for(she doesn't know that part yet) and proceed to give to a child who was hungry despite being hungry himself.

the queen took interest in Ballister and decided to approach him

for the next few weeks the queen would meet and get to know Ballister more, and eventually she adopts him.

The adoption immediately went all over the news and people celebrated and accepted Ballister as the new prince.(except for the director obviously)

ballister still underwent knight training because he wants to learn how to fight for himself and to not rely on other the whole time.

ambrosius, being gloreth's descendant, became Ballister' personal knight. And they both fell in love.

no one knows about their relationship except for the queen and ballister didnt know that the she already knew.

cue to Ballister being a blushing mess when the queen told him about it.

time skip to the knighting of the knights, Ballister gets framed for killing the queen and everyone thinks he did it so he can have the throne for himself.

The queen was killed through assassination, one of the guards was bribed by the director to kill the queen and injure Ballister and she'll try to fabricate the story.

How would she do it? Well she'll tell the people that Ballister ordered an assassin to kill the queen and harm him so he would also appear to be a victim as well.

the assassin turned to attack Ballister, with a clear plan to give a big Ballister the biggest cut, but ambrosius jumped to protect Ballister and got his arm cut instead. So now he's the one with the missing arm.

The assassin was immediately apprehended, but yelled out that Ballister was the one planned the assassination and that they never wanted to kill the queen. They were threatened to do it.

Then people turned on Ballister. The other guards were about to capture Ballister when ambrosius grabbed him and ran away.

Now both ambrosius and ballister escapes and are both being hunted.

The events that happened both went and didnt went to the director's plan because she didn't expect ambrosius to go with Ballister, so now she lost the decendant of gloreth.

they stumble upon the abandoned tower where Ballister bandaged and created a prosthetic arm for ambrosius (it was a hobby that the queen, the director and ambrosius knew about).

both tried to process the things that had happened, but soon Ballister breaksdown because of he death and ambrosius pulls him close to comfort him.

They stayed like that until they heard someone knocking on the door. Ambrosius pulls out his sword and slowly approached the door.

he opened it and raised his sword only to be met with emptiness, ambrosius lowers his sword and looks at Ballister, who went over to his side to check as well, and shared a confused look

then nimona scared the crap out of them by appearing behind them. (Lowkey find this cute because I picture ambrosius putting himself Infront of Ballister to protect him from nimona).

”Should we pillage a village? lay low until they dont remember and then we rISE LIKE A FIERY PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES AND OVER THROW THE GOVERNMENT TOGETHER WITH YOUR EVIL ARMY THAT YOUVE BUILT! And the people will scream “AHHHH THE EVIL PRINCE AND HIS LOYAL KNIGHT HAS RETURNED WITH AN ARMY TO DESTROY US”..............or we could just talk. :)”

ballister and ambrosius looks at each other, very unsure about nimona. and tried to shoo her because they thought she was a kid.

Since ambrosius is here, the escape scene never happened, instead they went to the institute to find the assassin and interrogate them. Nimona was supposed to be left behind but she joined them which scared them again

While capturing said assassin (they knocked them out), they were caught because ambrosius and nimona were having a small argument because nimona wasn't supposed to be there and ballister tries to quiet them down. Failed because ballister yelled out to silence them but alerted he guards instead.

Cue to nimona shapeshifting and they all escaped.

Once they arrived and nimona shifts back and celebrated their victory, which was cut short by ambrosius drawing his sword on nimona.

"is this how you say thank you to a fellow henchman?"

"henchman? You're not not even human! You're a mon-"

"DONT call me t h a t. I literally just saved both of you from getting captured and imprisoned in a room with no toilet!"

"she's right ambrosius, we should truth her"

"WHAT?!?"

It took awhile for ambrosius to give in but he eventually agrees to let nimona join. (He just gave in to Ballister's puppy eyes)

Time skip, the assassin wakes up and he's surrounded by the three. The same conversation happens, eventually the assassin reveals that the director was behind all of it

Ambrosius and nimona was shocked but they never felt so betrayed like Ballister. He had always looked up to that woman, he trusted her like how the queen trusted her too.

With that information, they let the assassin go. Not without being harmed though, when they dragged the assassin out, ambrosius decided to beat the assassin and nimona happily did it with him.

That is all I have for now. Few things are missing and some ideas didn't really sound right to me so I might change some stuff in the future. :))

[elvthron]

It’s been a while since I’ve written something here (thanks covid! Im still facing a few difficulties due to this bad b***), so why not resume to make posts again?

I wanted to share a little thing I did to myself to bring with me my altar’s energies and influeces: a Witch pouch!

So yes, the main items I used were:

- Selenite (crystal with lunar attunement, known as an energy cleanser, powerful stone of luck and protection)

- Pine cone (to represent the one onto the Thyrsus, Dionysus’ staff, a symbol of prosperity, fertility, and hedonism)

- A charm depicting Diana (just in case..)

- Mugwort (a herb I’m strongly bond to, but besides that, a herb associated with Diana herself, with the moon, with the feminine)

- A hagstone/“Diana’s stone” (as Charles Godfrey Leland writes in the “Aradia, Gospel of the Witches”: because finding a holed stone meant that the finder has Diana’s favor)

Also, I know it’s unrelated but can I say how much I love this pouch? I got it from a vintage market, it was a 60s-70s fabric belt’s container, the belt has the very same black velvet + decorations (sharing a picture of that as well!), that reminds me of Black Henbane flowers 🖤

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 12

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Loguetown is one of the last few big towns before ships enter the grandline. A merchant town and a Marine controlled town it has everything young cadets and pirates need. Armories brim with sturdy armor, ensuring the safety and protection of those setting sail. Provision stores abound, stocked with essential supplies to sustain voyages across treacherous waters. Bookstores proudly showcase their collection of maps and charts, invaluable resources for skilled navigators seeking to chart their course amidst the unpredictable seas. And amidst it all, clothing merchants proudly display their wares, offering a dazzling array of fabrics and garments that capture the imagination with their beauty and allure.

You carefully wander around, enchanted by all the beautiful things this town has to offer. The streets of Loguetown come alive with the vibrant energy of its inhabitants. Little children playing on the pedestrian walkways, their laughter echoing through the air. Some engage in games of catch, their tiny hands gripping colorful balls that bounce gleefully. Others skip and twirl with jump ropes, their nimble feet gracefully navigating the rhythmic dance. Everything seems so peaceful here.

Marine officers standing guard on corners of the streets, keeping an eye out for any unwanted intruders. You are glad that this town seems to be so civilized - Buggy would probably just walk around here covered with a coat to avoid the bothersome marines. You stop in front of a shop selling dresses, a long green dress has caught your attention, beautifully crafted with stitches and pearls adorning its collar. You stand there for almost 5 minutes, completely hypnotized by the beauty of this piece of clothing. When was the last time you felt like a woman and not like a dirty pirate in ragged clothes? 

That was the life you had chosen but sometimes you wonder how it would have been if you could just go back to your village and live the life most girls choose over there - growing up, getting married and becoming a housewife. The more you thought about this, the more you started to dislike this thought as well - how boring life must be when you are just home, cooking and doing the laundry. 

You wanted something in between - life on the ship and sometimes wearing a beautiful dress like this… You look into the little bag you had tied around your hip. There were some bread crumbs and a bronze coin you had found in your chamber. That would probably be just enough to buy you one drink in a pub. You needed to first find a way to get some money. Then food. Then clothes. Then a boat. You sigh. This all sounds more difficult than you had anticipated. 

Maybe finding Luffy first was the best idea - not only to warn him, but to check if he already had a pirate crew and maybe some gold to share with you. 

With one last glance at the dress you decide to move on, hoping to come back later to acquire it. 

As you wander aimlessly through the streets you realize that the sun is slowly setting and you start to get a bit nervous - where could Luffy be? If you remember how your childhood friend was back in the village where you always played together, he was the one who was always noisy and in the center of attention. If he was still the same Luffy, then he might be at the central point of this town - probably at the market place or at the execution platform of the former pirate king Gol D. Roger. You remember that this town was the place where the former king of the pirates was executed. You realize that this must be the place where Luffy would be heading to. Curious as he was, this would be the spot he wanted to visit first. 

A friendly looking Marine with blonde hair smiles at you as you approach him to ask for directions. Directing your attention towards the main street, the marine gestures with an outstretched finger, drawing your gaze towards a figure positioned at the opposite end. As you obediently follow the line of sight, your eyes lock with Cabaji's, a fleeting moment of connection that sends a chill down your spine. However, a sudden realization washes over you, bringing reassurance that you were safe for now. In this town, which brims with righteous defenders of justice, Cabaji holds no power to inflict harm upon you.

Skillfully engaging the Marine in a conversation you keep asking about good restaurants and more clothing shops or any place he would recommend visiting. He keeps talking to you and you realize Cabaji, seemingly vanished from sight, has left your immediate vicinity. A wave of relief washes over you, taking away the nervousness that had lingered within. 

You make sure that there are people at every corner of the street you are following now, avoiding shortcuts and dark corners, because you know that could be the ideal moment for the Buggy pirates to catch you and bring you back. Hiding in plain sight was exactly the strategy you had to go with. 

As you finally reach the center of the town a vast open space stretches in front of you, surrounded by houses. This was the place where Gol D. Roger was executed 20 years ago. People were wandering over the plaza as if this place had no historical significance, the sun was shining and the execution platform stood in the middle of this area like a monument to remember the end and the beginning of the pirate era. 

You feel somehow moved, knowing not only the significance of Gol D. Roger but also thinking back of how cruel the marines were to execute him in front of all the people watching. 

You slowly walk closer to the plattform, as you suddenly hear running steps behind you, a familiar voice panting and yelling “Yeeeaah! I found it!”

You turn around to see a young boy with black hair, a red vest and blue trousers, running towards you. With every stride, he clutches his straw hat firmly, determined to prevent the gusts of wind from whisking it away. The fire in his eyes, the excited grin - you immediately know who that is. 

“Luffy!” you shout in excitement and the straw hat stops in surprise, just two meters away from you. 

His baffled face turns into complete joy as he realizes who had called his name. 

“Y/n! You are here as well?”, now he runs towards you, leaping in your arms and you try to hold your balance and not fall on your back - this boy has grown so much, he is taller than you now and much stronger as well. You laugh in surprise and excitement to see your best friend again, a joyous laughter escapes your lips, intermingling with the bubbling excitement within. Without hesitation, you open your arms wide, enveloping him in a warm and heartfelt embrace.

As you draw him closer, a familiar scent wafts through the air, filling your senses with a comforting nostalgia. It is the fragrance of sunshine and barbecue, a delightful blend that evokes memories of carefree days and shared moments of happiness - Luffy had always loved meat more than any other food. 

“I am so glad to see you, Luffy! And look at you. You are a full grown man now! Soon to be king of the pirates!” 

“Yes!”, he interrupts the hug to look at you as well. “You are also much bigger now. Man, and you have long hair now! "That's neat!” 

You laugh. Big was probably not the best word to use for a lady, but you knew Luffy was not a poet, but a pirate.Though his intentions were consistently kind-hearted, it was evident that he possessed a certain naivety and a tendency to act impulsively. “My hair is definitely longer than the last time we met.��, you chuckle, “But Luffy, I am here to talk to you, the way how I got here is quite crazy. And most of all - you are in danger!” 

He grins from one ear to another. 

“I really want to hear your Story, Y/n. But let's just go and look at the execution platform together now. That is the thing I came for in the first place. And then let's talk!”

“But Luffy, this is urgent…!” 

He does not listen to the end of your sentence but just grabs you by the hand and drags you along, with a strength you didn't know he possessed before.

“Let's go up there!”, he laughs and doesn't let go of you, all the way until you both reach the platform. You pant and try to catch your breath, but Luffy is determined and he cannot be stopped if he wants something so badly.

“Hold on to me!”, he cheerfully exclaims and lays his arm around your waist. You suddenly blush from this intimate gesture. He grabs on to you tight, then raises his arm and you are too startled by what happens next - his arm stretches all the way up to the top of the platform, grabbing onto an iron rod under the wooden platform. You scream in shock as you are both suddenly catapulted up to the platform at dizzying speed. 

Luffy holding on to you making sure you jump together with him on the platform as you reach the top. As you ascend, the rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses. The moment of anticipation culminates as Luffy's feet touch the ground first, his unwavering stability serving as an anchor. He extends a steady hand, providing support as you find your footing beside him. Together, you regain balance, standing firm. Your heart is racing. 

“What was that?” you gasp in shock and fear. 

“The gum gum fruit, I am a rubber man!”, he laughs, probably highly entertained by your face. “You should have warned me… that was a very unpleasant lift.!”, you slowly regained your posture and gave Luffy a friendly shove. From here you can see over all of Loguetown, you see the people down below, gazing up at you both in fear and shock. Luffy starts laughing. “Man, this is neat! We are where the former pirate King stood!”

You realize that you are very high up and probably also at a place where normal citizen shouldnt be without permission of the marines. “Luffy, I think this was not the best idea.. now we have drawn all the attention on us!”

As you say that you suddenly hear a familiar voice, a yell from down the execution platform, covered in capes you can still see the red nose of Buggy the clown. 

“I found the straw hat. And he has my treasure!”, you can hear his anger and frustration all the way up to here. 

“Who is this?”Luffy asks, bending over, a bit too close to looking like falling down all the 5 meters down on the asphalt. “That is what I wanted to warn you about. Buggy the clown has abducted me and tries to kill you now..!”

“He did what?” Luffy turns around to you, the word “abducted” has probably somehow turned a switch inside of him. He was always very protective of the people he loved. 

“I did not abduct her!”, yells Buggy from below who can surprisingly hear your conversation very well. 

“Is that the clown guy I beat up in Orange town?” Luffy, all a bit slow, finally realizes who he was talking to. But there is no more time for more explanation - the marines have found out that you stepped on this platform and they are shouting at you to come down.

“Dammit, Luffy, what are we gonna do?” 

With the marines and Buggy waiting down there you think trying to take them on would be like suicide. “Maybe just for now we run. I want you to also meet my crew!” Luffy grins and puts his arm around your waist again. You know what will happen next, so you lay your arms around his strong neck. Buggy is almost exploding in anger down at the platform as Luffy swings with you, arm fully stretched to the other side of the plaza, holding on to a chimney on a red tiled roof. “Don't let go, Y/n! This will be a bit rough..!”, you nod and fully trust Luffy - who would not trust the future king of the pirates? 

[dailyanarchistposts]

Empire’s radical monopoly over life

Ivan Illich was a prominent radical intellectual in the 1970s, but aside from his radical critique of schooling, is not well-known today. For Illich, modern schooling was only one of the many ways that dependence was being entrenched—a dependence not only on capitalist production and consumption, but on a whole violent, industrialized, disciplined, and controlled way of life. His concept of radical monopoly points to something more systematic than the control over a particular market by a particular firm. Instead, radical monopoly gets at the way that Empire monopolizes life itself: how people relate to each other, how they get around, how they get their sustenance, and the whole texture of everyday life. A world built for cars forces out other ways of moving, and modern building codes and bylaws make it impossible and illegal for people to build their own dwellings, or even to live together at all if they cannot pass as a nuclear family. Modern medicine does not just create a new way of understanding the body: its scientific understanding is premised on a radical monopoly over health, and the subjugation (or commodification) of other healing traditions. To be healthy under Empire is to be a properly functioning, able-bodied, neurotypical individual capable of work, and to be sick often means becoming medicalized: isolated, confined, and dependent on strangers and experts. Law, policing, and prisons monopolize the field of justice by enforcing cycles of punishment and incarceration, forcing out the capacity of people to protect each other and resolve conflicts themselves. The rise of industrial agriculture has been accompanied by a loss of the convivial relations surrounding subsistence: the connection to the growing and processing of food, the intimacy with ecosystems and seasons it entails, and the collective rituals, celebrations, and practices that have accompanied these traditions. Empire’s infrastructure induces dependence on forms of production, specialized knowledge, expertise, and tools that detach people from their capacities to learn, grow, build, produce, and take care of each other.

Since Illich wrote, these monopolies have folded into ever more diffuse and generalized forms of control, sunk deeper into the fabric of life. Deleuze called this new form of power taking shape over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries “control societies.”[102] Rather than telling people exactly what to do, this mode of power regularizes life, calling forth certain ways of living and feeling, and making other forms of life die. Surveillance no longer ends when one exits a particular institution: through social media, smartphones, browsing histories, and credit cards, surveillance is ubiquitous, continuous, and increasingly participatory. We are enjoined to share, consume, and express ourselves, and every choice feeds back into algorithms that predict our habits and preferences with ever increasing precision. The performance of self-expression is constantly encouraged, and as the Institute for Precarious Consciousness writes, “Our success in this performance in turn affects everything from our ability to access human warmth to our ability to access means of subsistence, not just in the form of the wage but also in the form of credit.”[103] Under this apparatus, there is little room for silence, nuance, listening, exploration, or the rich subtleties of tone and body language. Anything too intense or subversive is either incorporated or surgically removed by security, police, or emergency personnel. Class, anti-Blackness, Islamophobia, ableism and other structured forms of violence are coded into the algorithms that make everyone a potential terrorist, thief, or error. Even those who are supposed to enjoy the most—those who can afford the newest screens and the most expensive forms of consumption—are inducted into a state of nearly constant distraction, numbness, and anxiety.

Perpetual individualization obscures the crushing collective effects of Empire. When this form of control is working, interactions are hypervisible, superficial, predictable, and self-managed. To be constantly mistrusted and controlled is also to be detached from one’s own capacity to experiment, make mistakes, and learn without instruction or coercion. To internalize the responsibilities of neoliberal individualism is to sink into the mesh of control and subjection. The responsible economic subject owns her own property, pays her own debts, invests in her future, and meets her needs and desires through consumption. She is individually responsible for her health, her economic situation, her life prospects, and even her emotional states. These forms of subjection make it difficult to imagine—let alone participate in—collective alternatives. From the dependence on armed strangers to resolve conflicts, to the hum of an extraction-fuelled world, to the glow of screens that beckon attention, to the stranglehold of policy and bureaucracy, to the intergenerational violence and abuse that permeate lovers and families, Empire is constantly entrenching dependence on a world that makes joy, trust, and responsibility difficult.

It is not a question of revealing this to people, as if they are dupes. Struggling amid these forms of control means grappling with their affective hold on us and our daily lives. Anxiety, addiction, and depression are not merely secrets to reveal or illusions to dispel. Preaching about Empire’s horrors can stoke cynicism or ironic detachment rather than undoing subjection. One can still feel bound and depleted, despite one’s awareness. Empire’s subjects are “free” to be mistrustful and resentful of the system under which they live. One can hate Empire as much as one wants, as long as one continues to work, pay rent, and consume. There is no simple correspondence between intentions and actions, as if the problem is simply figuring out what to do and doing it. Undoing subjection is not about conscious opposition, or finding a way to be happy amidst misery. Challenging Empire’s radical monopoly over life means interrupting its affective and infrastructural hold, undoing some of our existing attachments and desires, and creating new ones.

[malakia215]

Dinluke Halloween Week.

So I won't be able to write anything cause I just don't have time (among other things). But I would love to share my thoughts! I will def write these stories out but will post them next year for Halloween. If you want to know those stories and don't mind spoilers, you can continue under 'read more/keep reading'.

This will be for story 1 (out of two). Will post about story 2 later.

Modern AU. Urban fantasy.

Din and Grogu live in a haunted house in the middle of the woods. Din is what is termed as a 'null,' someone who isn't affected by magic at all or isn't affected by certain magic types. Grogu is a creature of some kind (Din isn't sure of what) but looks human (i.e. curly white hair, pointed ears, but skin color is like Din's but with a tinge of green). Din saved Grogu after finding him being held captive. They had a rough road until they stopped Gideon and then settled down in an old, abandoned house that Din stumbled upon by accident in the woods one day.

After rebuilding the home and modernizing it, Din began feeling like he wasn't alone in the house. There was an area not far away from his property- a cave- that had a small abandoned, destroyed alter which only adds to his nerves that it is something evil. But then he discovers Luke- the spirit of the house/land. Luke appears as a normal human but Din knows he is a powerful spirit.

Din is also in love and in a relationship with LukeThey can only meet in dreams but Din can feel Luke's presence around the house even though he can't see his love when awake- only Grogu can.

Din can't tell anyone he is in a relationship with Luke. His friends would worry since past stories always ended poorly. But Din loves Luke and Luke loves Din. Even though Luke says things like they will be together one day. Din doesn't plan on dying anytime soon, however.

One day, Din rushes home when he discovers bounty hunters in the nearby town- not with the people Gideon words for but it isn't uncommon for creatures/special humans to be captured and sold in the black market. These guys got passed the percautions the town has to protect them from that (Or something like that). He basically gets home with Grogu and puts everything on lockdown.

When it gets dark, the hunters come and Din is ready. But the attackers never stumble into the area where his house is. In fact, they act like it isn't there and seem compelled to stay away from the area.

Din is confused but isn't about to go out and leave Grogu alone. Then he starts hearing screams.

He knows it is from the people but it is so dark that he can't really see what is happening. At one point he sees someone running but then the next moment it looks like a shadow swallows them.

Din doesn't know what is going on and that even puts him more on edge. Almost to the point he leaves to investigate. But then- suddenly- the screams stop.

Still taking cover, Din watches the forest around his home. And then freezes when something materializes just at the property border.

Coming out of the shadows it is a creature of both light and dark. A heavy hood up to obscure their upper face but strands of light- like hair- can be seen. Body wrapped in black robes but its arms, hands, and lower face can be seen and they look like galaxies. the fingers of the creature are light as it holds an orb that looks like the sun. From the end of where the robe ends- feet hidden behind them- light tentacles emerge from the fabric. Contrasts greatly against black wings that have a twinkle and shine to them like the milky way. Above the creature's head, two green elongated eyes hover that look around randomly. Between them is a third orb of fire, held up by a second pair of arms that seem to come from its back.

When the creature enters the land it pushes back its hood. There isn't a face- just a continuation of space. But there are six distinct 'stars' that run parallel with each other seem to blink as a human would. They are two different colors- 4 are pure white and last two (the ones between the white ones) are a startling blue.

Slowly the creature walks toward Din and its size begins to shrink, the shadow and light fade away, until there- standing before Din- is Luke.

They stare at one another. Din speechless having moved out from hiding and Luke with a sheepish smile. Luke breaks the silence with a soft hello.

Din rushes toward Luke, unable to believe he is here. And Luke eagerly reaches out to him. They hug and Din feels like he is going to cry even though he has so many questions.

After sharing a few words, the two move inside and draw Grogu out from his safety place.

Over food, Luke explains he is actually an eldritch being that has been here for many years. He had a whole cult at one point before he decided that he was tired of being used by his followers and having to take sacrifices. He was forgotten- even made his dwelling invisible to others to make sure. But since Din is a null and grogu is also an eldritch being (which explains a lot of things to Din), they weren't affected by Luke's magic. Luke wanted to come back after spending time with Din and Grogu- explaining Din and him are bonded by soul magic, a rare type of magic that even some nulls can be affected by. (it is super rare to find a full null or a sink- someone that makes every type of magic useless around them)- because of their love of the land that developed into a love for one another. But in order to do that it would require an enormous sacrifice that Luke didn't want to do- a living sacrifice. Luke had no qualms of using the hunters though as sacrifices to make it happen in order to protect Din, Grogu, and their home. (He doesn't need those sacrifices anymore though- maintaining the body is easier than manifesting it).

When questioned about if Luke will still have his power- Luke grins and explains that with their soul bond that it acts like an act of worship. Meaning he will still have all of his abilities as long as Din keeps loving him. And BOY Din isn't going to stop that any time soon.

The ending would be Din and Luke sharing a kiss for the first time in the physical realm and Din couldn't be happier.

There is a second chapter which is nothing but tentacle porn LMAO. Din gets fucked by his love for the first time in the physical world~

I DID write the opening for this story that I am really proud of but I don't want to post it on AO3 like a chapter. If you made it this far, let me know if you want to read it here on Tumblr.

Thanks for reading!

[thedivinelights]

The Sky is Full of Light, Swirling in Spirals Bold and Bright (Modern AU Jacob/Ebenezer)

A separate Modern AU Scrooge x Marley thing set in 2011 I have had in the works for a while and I felt I had to share the hurt/comfort with you all. Prepare for lots of comfort and lots of hurt.

TW: Child Abandonment

(UNDER THE CUT)

Say what you will about the rain or the fog or the pollution, but there was no denying that Canary Wharf was beautiful on a snowy night.

It was customary for both of them, Jacob and Ebenezer supposed, to walk the path of the Thames on their Sunday strolls. No matter the busyness of life that accompanied them wherever they went or whenever the frosty December air nipped at their cheeks, this had been a constant. A constant in a continuously changing world that tended to leave old souls like them far behind. There was nothing more inherently magical than watching the beauty of the moonlight, bold and bright, dance across the reflection of the water, shifting and changing like the tides of the ocean. Towering buildings looming over like sentinels, secret and solitary, kept their mysteries hidden behind illuminated windows. Manufactured, ersatz stars in a city that often blocked out the real ones.

Jacob believed the financial district a modern wonder of the world. Ebenezer believed it a testament to the ingenuity of the human mind. But both knew it to be a home to the sprawling empire they built together with their blood, sweat and tears. A way to prove to the world that they would not be shackled by the chains of a flawed society. It was imperfect and rough and dented and bandaged and healed and beautiful. It was so… so beautiful. No one would take it away, even if they had to fight tooth and nail to protect it.

The distant sounds of traffic faded away as their feet gently crunched through the fresh snowfall, walking in companionable silence as the pavement was blanketed in the purest white.

“Hey Ben… you wanna grab dinner while we’re out?” Jacob asked, looking up at his husband, his voice barely above a whisper against the tranquil backdrop of the winter night. His cane — now more an accessory than the aid it had been in recent months — rested under his arm.

“Mm… sure.” Ebenezer’s voice was muffled against the thick, colourful scarf wound tightly around his neck, lips hidden beneath the fabric. “It’s half-past nine, though. Not many options.”

“What about Big Easy?”

Ebenezer let out an uncharacteristic snort. “Christ’s sake Jacob, we’ve been there a hundred times at least! Sooner or later, I’ll wake up and find you’ve become part of the menu.”

It didn’t go unnoticed how their gloved hands locked together, Jacob pulling him a little closer, shoulders brushing as he leaned against Ebenezer as he beamed with a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat’s infamous quirk.

“You mean you wouldn’t love me as a lobster?” He asked, his voice whiny and hurt despite the clear smile.

Ebenezer rolled his eyes playfully at Jacob’s antics, elbowing him slightly. “Only if you came with a side of butter. Maybe then I’d consider it.”

Jacob laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, love, but I’ll take it if it means I get to see you smile like that.”

Damn it, over three decades of knowing this lovable bastard of a man and still the Silver-Tongued Viper could be one hell of a charmer when he wanted to be. Ebenezer had to concede to his wit when he felt his heart flutter with stupidly sincere warmth and affection, and he could feel his lips tug upwards into a smile despite his ‘best’ efforts to maintain that impish frown upon his face.

It was disgustingly cute. It was maddeningly sweet. It was incredibly endearing. It was them.

And wouldn’t you know it, but for the first time in a long time, they liked being them.

Conversation flowed easily between the both of them, touching on subjects that happened to strike their fancy. Expanding into Asian markets when the year turned,  whether Home Alone or Elf would be their chosen movie for the season, even the upcoming charity gala they planned to host for those unable to celebrate the holidays with loved ones. Those pedestrians who passed them by looked as if they had gone mad from how uncanny it was. How could they not? Look at the way they handled themselves as if there wasn’t a care in the world! Look at the merriment that had been remarkably absent from the bustling city’s harried inhabitants! Look at how such wondrous, wonderful wanderers of the world held the sparkle of London’s lights captive in their eyes! It was the purest form of adoration, the kind of contentment only developed from years of trials and hardships.

As the clock drew closer to ten, they found themselves treading upon a quieter, less-frequented stretch of path, the snow intensifying and blanketing the city deeper around them in an angel’s caress. Their discussions grew more hushed, then, the intimacy of the night only deepening their connection, as if all the worries and cruelty of the past had been washed away like the river they walked alongside.

SIlence soon overtook their words… and it was in that comfortable silence that they heard it.

Jacob noticed the way Ebenezer seemed to freeze for a moment, his powerful stride slowing to a hesitant shuffle. It was a whimper so weak, a plaintive cry so faint that one would’ve mistaken it for the icy breeze had it not been for the notes of distress and the rustles of fern that accompanied it.

“Is something wrong, Ben?”

He didn’t answer, instead moving forward with cautious steps. The rustling and whimpering continued, and Ebenezer lowered himself down to the ground, snow seeping into his trousers as he inspected a cluster of bushes near the path. Jacob followed close behind, leaning against his cane for support.

In the dim moonlight, Ebenezer’s gloved fingers gently brushed away the dense thicket, snow crunching beneath his touch. The cries were more prominent now, high-pitched and shrill. The kind of sounds that pierced the heart and demanded attention, needs and comfort.

The pained cries of an infant. An infant no more than a few months old, bundled up in a thin pink blanket ripped to shreds by the thorns of the surrounding bush. Her shut eyes were red and blotchy from crying, her tiny fists clenched and raised helplessly in the air. She appeared to sense a saviour, and her lips quivered as she let out another desperate wail.

“Mother-love in infancy and childhood is just as important for mental health as are vitamins and proteins for physical health.”

“Holy shit- Ben, get the kid out of there!”

Ebenezer’s heart raced as he carefully reached into the thorny bush, cradling the baby girl gently into his arms, careful not to disturb her more than necessary. She was so small, so fragile, so thin, so cold… and already she had been exposed to the harshness of the world that took years to corrupt them.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

“Jacob, call 999. Now.” Ebenezer instructed, holding the babe close to his chest. His voice seemed monotonous and unnatural, as cold as the air around him and as distant as the hum of the city. Flat. Still. 

But the ocean was never still. The ocean was never calm. The wind howled and the waters rose with every minute that passed, ever furious and ever ruthless. Poseidon was angered by the cunning Odysseus’ transgressions against his child, and the lord of the seas raged against the wretched, lamentable mortals who thought themselves beyond divine punishment.

There was no justice. No salvation. No love for this life barely living. What cutting fangs would this monster have? What savage roar would follow it wherever it went? What weaknesses could be exploited from this dangerous beast? What weapons would be needed to slay it?

Jacob fumbled for his phone, throwing off one of his gloves as trembling fingers dialled for emergency services. Ebenezer heard naught of what was said, deafened by the piercing cries of the child in his arms, frantic in her fearful communication, overwrought in her outpour of mournful wails.

“They’re on their way, Ben.” The words spilling out of Jacob’s mouth was barely coherent in his speed, but it was enough to Ebenezer all the same.

“Hold her, Jake.” 

“Wh-”

“Just do it.”

Jacob nodded, taking the shivering infant into his arms, shielding her beneath his jacket. She whimpered under the sudden shift of movement from beneath her, but the warmth of his embrace seemed to garner some comfort. She settled into his hold, her tiny fingers grasping at one of his exposed digits, clinging onto it as if it was a lifeline.

Ebenezer swiftly unfurled the scarf wrapped around him, the tassels flinging about in the breeze from the rough force of his movements. But his touch was lighter as a feather as he cocooned the little girl, bundling her up from the snow that only seemed to fall faster with each passing moment.

“Shh… it’s okay, little one.” He cooed, fingers brushing over the delicate skin of her cheek as he adjusted the scarf around her tiny form. “You’re safe now.”

The baby's cries began to subside, her eyes blinking open to reveal a pair of the most innocent, wide-eyed amber orbs that Ebenezer had ever seen. It was like honey. It was like spiralling gold, shimmering against smokey hues of white and grey.

Jacob looked up to his husband, his lower lip quivering as he held her close. “Can it really be said that such a small and innocent thing is safe, Ben?”

But when his gaze was met with a burning determination- a whirlpool of resolve… he’d known the beast had awakened within. He knew that when Ebenezer Scrooge set his mind to something…

…it was almost surely a success.

“We don’t live alone. We are members of one body. We are responsible for each other. And I tell you that the time will soon come when, if men will not learn that lesson, then they will be taught in fire and blood and anguish.”

They stayed with her when the sirens began to close in. They stayed with her when the paramedics arrived to examine her. They stayed with her as the authorities questioned them for information. They stayed with her even as she was taken away to the hospital to receive proper care.

And she’d never know of her bloodline, not one bit of them or their cruelty. Not their names or their birthdays, their eye colour, blood type, hair. Not their favourite shoes or shows, their favourite foods or the stories and lullabies they might have sung in another life. All she would know is the kindness of two old, damaged, trying men who found her in the snow ‘neath the moonlight.

For all she knew, they would be her parents.

And that… that would be more than enough for her.

“...Good night.” Tagged: @rom-e-o @a-christmas-carol-from-hr @quill-pen @undeadchestnut @m0nsterwife

[fatuismooches]

I'm been so active with my scenarios that i surprise myself. Here is yet another!

Have you finished the current event storyline? I skipped all dialogue BUT stopped at the very end and i must admit those couple of lines were all that matters.

They. Are making. Harbingers-inspired. Toys.

Okay. I'm going crazy just at a thought of Reader buying these. This Ask would become far too long if i put all Harbingers here, so imma do my favs!

~~~

Dottore walked to Reader's room to make sure they took their daily medicine. The first thing he sees is you sneakily stuffing something underneath the pillows. He gets suspicious and demands to show whatever that is immediately.

... Why do you have a plushie of him?

Zandik has more questions than answers when he picks up the toy. Reader explains that they bought it from the local market which just received an import of Fontainian toys. Upon closer inspection, Dottie realizes that the toy craftsmanship is exquisite and it's not exactly a plushie, but rather a clockwork meka mechanism with only a couple of parts covered by soft fabric. All sharp points were polished, metal is durable and high-quality. His curiosity is piqued and he'd love to tear it apart and find out how it was made, but Reader protests immediately, snatching the toy from him protectively. Welps. Fine, you get to keep it. You can play with it when he is away on a mission or all of his Segments are busy. His heart always melts when he finds Reader taking a nap, their arm clutching the toy close to their chest. Zandik can't help but feel a bit envious - why would you cuddle a piece of metal when you have him? >:(

~~~

Childe returned home and the first thing that caught his attention was a loud noise of arguing upstairs. When he arrives to the scene, he is both confused, curious and amused. Reader and Teucer are having a tug of war over a toy? That's a first - you two usually get along perfectly.

Upon taking a closer look, he notices that they are fighting over a toy that looks just like him. Childe quickly separates them by taking the toy away and while they say their "sorry" to one another, he takes a good look at the cause of commotion. For his surprise, that IS a toy representing him. Reader explains that they took Teucer shopping and came across this store that sold toys based on....... Snezhnaya's best toy salesmen and saleswomen. Unfortunately, there was only one Childe left in stock. After returning home, the two got into an argument who it belongs to.

Childe cannot help but laugh at the situation and makes a deal that the two of them make a schedule: Teucer gets to play with it for one hour, then passes it for the Reader to play with for another hour, and so on.

Little did you know, Childe went to the same store the very same day and made a pre-order. Less than a week later, Reader, all three young siblings and even Childe himself had a clockwork meka toy of the best salesman in Snezhnaya!

~~~

I wish i could write Columbina, Arlecchino and Pantalone as well (heck, i'd love to do all of the Harbingers HMPH) but yeah 😅 I managed to zone-out midway writing this and now i don't remember what i wanted to write for these three so... Maybe next time!

Hope you have a pleasant day/evening/night~

- 🐺

Harbinger stans are so funny, we see a random NPC mention the mere word of them and all of a sudden we're going crazy (it's me, i'm Harbinger stans)

LMAO DOTTORE 😭 You've never been good at hiding things from him unfortunately... and of course you have to give in eventually, embarrassingly enough showing him a toy you blew your Mora on (well spent though!) Dot shares your enthusiasm for the toy... just not the same type. You do not want him to open it up like a Ruin Guard and then get bored with it and leave it disassembled like his countless other projects! 😒 He lets it go... but he also can't help but wonder out of all Harbingers, why he was chosen for a toy. It must be that damn banker's scheme...

He does find your affection for the toy a bit cute... at first. Though he was interested in it at first, he's growing to resent it a bit... is it really all that fun to play with. Not to mention... he could totally make a better toy if he tried, the one you have would pale in comparison to his masterpiece! ... He doesn't say that out loud, though. Though you might find a better mechanism on your desk later down the line in hopes you discard that one to the side.

I don't think i could ever argue with baby Teucer he's far too precious 😭 He can have all the toys he wants I'll just ask my rich bf (Childe 🤭) to buy it later with his no doubt plentiful connections lmao. No doubt he's the kind of guy to buy out the whole stock and then give it to everyone in his family, and the neighborhood kids who adore him too 🥺 Bina would be ALL over this toy lmao she'd love it! But she'd also want a toy made of you so she can put them together in her room and make them hold hands <3 Arlecchino wouldn't care much... until she finds out you brought a few for the children to play with as well. For Pantalone... you know that man already knew it was being developed he's all in the market for it and everything, he's getting that Mora I'm telling you 😭 He'd get one for you too of course ❤️ Capitano is the kinda guy who would play with it in private... (just don't show it more attention than any of them)

[sagemoderocklee]

📝 :o)c

i have far fewer wips than I realized with actual stuff to share because i did a lot of updating (and finishing) both last year and this year, however, my behemoth of a fic The Art of Love, has pieces for both the next two chapters, so i hope you enjoy this! and anyone who's been waiting for TAoL to update as well. :p and sorry for takin a lil longer to get to this. i had to wait for some translation help on a line of dialogue lol

---

Lee couldn't focus. He knew immediately the moment he lost control of his chakra—a novel experience, but one he couldn't properly find pride in. He struggled to regain the control he'd been honing, but it slipped from his hands like grains of sand. Gaara had insisted they continue to play at being tourists, but Lee—already so poor at undercover work and now riddled with guilt—couldn't maintain the act. He laughed nervously and loudly; his eyes darted around the markets and streets, searching out enemies; his hand hovered around the nimcha he'd taken to carrying beneath his djellaba, while the other hovered protectively at Gaara's back. Anyone looking for a suspicious character would have picked Lee out of the crowd in a heartbeat. 

The control on his chakra finally snapping was the final straw. 

“I cannot do this,” he insisted to Gaara, once they'd returned to their hotel room, heading Gaara off before he could reprimand Lee for his error. “Please, can we stay inside today?” 

“You were doing so well.” Gaara didn't sound angry with Lee. The subtle nuances of his voice betrayed so little, but there was an undercurrent of sympathy, of understanding. 

“I know.” Disappointment in himself made him hunch, defeated and small. “I wish I were as skilled at controlling my chakra as you, but it is difficult under the best of circumstances. And this—well, these are not the best.” 

“We've been in worse situations.” 

“That was different.” 

Gaara tilted his head, his eyes bright against his brown skin and the loose fabric framing his face. He still hadn't removed the veil from around the lower half of his face, making his thoughts all the more impenetrable. “What was so different about that time?” 

Lee felt his pulse quicken, a brief but obvious giveaway. He forced his heart to calm, the way he couldn't force his chakra to. He struggled to form a lie, molding it from fragmented truths like an inexperienced potter. “It was more immediate, I suppose. The danger, I mean. I think if I knew the Daimyo's men were here, if I could focus on the enemy—” 

“You didn't focus on the enemy last time,” Gaara pointed out. 

A flush burned its way up the back of Lee's neck and he was grateful for the shemagh that kept it hidden. “No, but—I just mean that I knew there was an enemy! Now, I have no idea when they will appear or if they will at all! It is the not knowing that scares me!”

Gaara sat beside Lee on the bed, watching him in silence from the corner of his eye. “You need to trust yourself more.” 

“I—”

Gaara raised his hand, silencing Lee with the gesture. “You are one of the strongest shinobi I have ever known. We have survived this long because of you, and we will survive much longer. Trust that you can keep me safe, as I do.” 

Lee wiped at his eyes before the tears could fall, forcing a laugh. “I have faith in myself, in you... It is the rest of the world I do not have faith in.” 

“Then how do you propose we proceed? If you have so little faith in others.” 

“I just wish we could leave now.” 

“I know. I feel much the same, but it will do us no good and your lack of faith is going to drive you to something you'll regret.”

“I only regret anything that will put you in danger.” Lee sighed, letting his face fall into his hands. Guilt wormed its way between his fingers, slipping beneath the closed lids of his eyes until they watered. Guilt had become his constant companion these past days, more constant than the love he'd forgotten to keep hidden. “I think I forgot... why we were here.” 

“Is that so bad?” 

“Of course!” Lee said, lifting his head to look at Gaara. “This is not a vacation! We are—<em>you</em> are in danger, and it is my duty to protect you—”

“Weren't you the one who cursed your duty?” Gaara's eyes were thin slits, like a snake sleeping in grass. He watched Lee, the soft green of his eyes reflecting only Lee, sitting at his side. 

“It was not my duty to you that I cursed,” Lee said quietly. 

“No, it was the mission.” 

“It was anything other than keeping you safe.” 

Gaara rose to his feet, perhaps to put some distance between them. Lee had, after all, damned everything and everyone besides Gaara—Suna and her people, Gaara's family, even his own teammates. It was not a luxury, but it was a privilege Gaara did not have. He stood for a long moment, unmoving, then sat back down.

“If keeping me safe is all that matters to you, why did you forget?” 

Lee swallowed against the heaviness of his tongue. Stalling, he asked, “Forget what?” 

“What brought us here?” 

“I got lost in the beauty of this place,” he whispered. It wasn't a lie. He had gotten lost in the beauty of Gyokukakushin; in the beauty of his time with Gaara; in the illusion of safety; in the fantasy of something more. 

“Yabdo annaka asbahta afdal fel kathib.”

Lee froze, trying to parse through the syllables, trying to recognize any of the words within that sentence. Frustration made his hands curl into tight fists, and he closed his eyes, going over the sentence again, as if he could visualize it in his mind. 

“I haven't taught you this,” Gaara whispered, his voice closer than Lee had expected. “You are too hard on yourself.”

“Is that what you said?” 

“No.” Gaara didn't elaborate. “But it is the truth. Whatever beautiful thing made you forget, don't let it go.” 

“I cannot afford to hold on to it.” The words came out on a quiet sob, tears he hadn't meant to cry welling in his eyes. 

“You have to.” Gaara's hand touched his, the soft brown skin of his palm sliding across the rough scars on the back of Lee's hand. Lee met Gaara's gaze, only enough space between them for breath to pass. He was forgetting again; letting the beauty and the quiet of the moment slip past his defenses. 

Questions caught in his throat as Gaara's eyes held his in a steady, unwavering embrace. Gaara had no idea what he was asking of Lee, no idea of the torment Lee had kept from him. If he knew, he would not say such things. 

With an impossible effort, Lee tore his gaze from Gaara's. “And what if holding on to this puts you in more danger?” 

The hand atop his squeezed, the pressure strong and reassuring; grounding in the way the sand around his ankles was. “I do not believe it will.” 

Lee stared at the hand on his, a viper constricting around his heart. With tentative fingers, he brushed the top of Gaara's hand. “Promise me something.” 

Gaara shifted at his side, drawing Lee's gaze back up to meet his. “What?” 

Lee wished he could speak in another language, a language unknown to Gaara so he could ask him for all the impossible things he wanted them to share. 

“If I do let go of this, will you help me get it back?” 

“Why let go of it at all then?” Gaara asked, the words so quiet they barely carried past the blue veil over his mouth. If there had been any more space between them, Lee might have missed the words entirely. 

Lee traced invisible patterns against the skin of Gaara's hand, as he stared beyond the jade of Gaara's eyes to something within himself. He counted the thirteen strokes that marred Gaara's forehead, closing his eyes as he imagined them against the back of Gaara's hand and carved into his own heart.

“Because I have to.” It was a dream, one he could never touch. Not ever again. He let go of Gaara's hand. “Do you promise?” 

“With all that I have.” 

[pleb-the-original]

Day 1: Aberration

(Welcome back folks! So funny story, I found this website called 4thewords which is the whole reason I got this written down now. As for the story itself, when I looked through the codex the first aberration that popped out to me as a good subject was the amabie. Because honestly, where do they go and where do they come from?)

Some of the most enigmatic of all creatures across the supernatural world belong to the yokai. Yet even among the oddest of odd are a set of yokai that seem to defy convention. The divinatory yokai such as amabie may not share looks or names but do share a common theme. They all only appear once or a few times throughout all of historical record to share a premonition of fortune or disaster, sometimes even both. Then they disappear into the aether never to be seen or heard of again. Normally this doesn't seem all that strange. Belief wanes and waxes for humans just as any other idea. Yet even with a solid foundation of belief as seen in the magic protections around a pemanatory yokai's image the real thing never surfaces again even in the darkest corners of the most magically potent places possible. Even now I carry a memento of amabie's fortunes in my daily outings as purchased from an old wares shop in the yokai realm. It truly makes you wonder where they could have gone and maybe where they even come from in the first place. Luckily for me, pardon my pun as you'll see, the answer is quite an open case. After a bit of discussion with some highly regarded kami and some time spent in Luck's quarters of Pandemonium haven enlightened me to the true nature of these living divinations. Actually, divination is probably the most apt comparison one could make. As is the same with all predictions of the future, these yokai do not predict what will be, but instead warp reality itself to ensure that their speakings come to fruition. The typical story would go like this: an especially powerful yokai or kami would decide to up the scale of their usual tricks and enact some lasting damage or blessing on the people under their ward. So they would go to Lady Luck to propose the creation of one of these yokai. Luck would then utilize her legions of fortune demons to aid the kami or yokai in the crafting of their vessel. A body would be created from the stone and clay around Hell and Yomi to form a body with the features chosen by the kami or yokai. Once the clay is shaped, the luck demons would infuse the body with good and bad luck according to the kami's or the yokai's wishes to bring about great upheaval which would require a lot of power from the demons. Then the kami or yokai would breathe life into the body where they would then take it and release it nearby a human settlement where it would then sprout its diviniatory magic and dissipate into nothingness as the magic keeping it alive is released into the fabric of reality to weave the wishes of its creator into existence. Said magic also infuses itself into images and talismans as a way to dilute any remaining magic or just to make sure the humans don't suffer too many casualties during a bad period. Such cases are a great example of the historical friendship and closeness between demons and yokai. As for why such occurrences have not continued into the modern day, that can be attributed to the same reason every other yokai has retreated to their realm outside of the mortal way. The prevalence of electricity has made the mortal world a nightmare for yokai to exist in, like someone with seasonal allergies being stuck in a field of wildflowers. Luck herself has also become a controversial figure after the revelations seen in the Sirius case that I doubt any remaining kami or yokai would want to work with her. Still, the remnants of what once was still remains. Talismans are a common good sold in yokai markets with the rare memory going for quite a fortune. It's quite intriguing to see how things have shifted. I doubt there is even a need for divination yokai anymore. The world is already enough of a chaotically fluid realm of fortune and falls.(Journal Entry found in a recently sold Dark Market apartment.)

[annbourbon]

My Journey (Fashion Design)

I'm obsessed with fashion, please let me know if there's a 101 class, blog or something else cause I want to know more! Keep learning...

So far what I've been doing it's:

* Learn how to draw (actually taking classes and I'm currently an art student)

* Reading books 📚 about the topic (if you all want me to come up with some titles I'll make it happen, just let me know in the comments) but here are some for now:

♡ The Sewing Bible by Ruth Singer

♡ Overdressed: The Shockingly High Cost of Cheap Fashion by Elizabeth L. Cline

♡ Fashion Design: The Complete Guide by John Hopkins

♡ So you want to Work in Fashion?: How to Break into the World of Fashion and Design (Be What You Want) by Patricia Wooster

♡ Trash to Trend (a doctoral thesis, Estonian Academy of Arts)

♡ Patternmaking for Fashion Design

♡ Sewing for Fashion Designers by Annette Fischer

♡ Atlas of Fashion Designers by Laura Ecceiza.

(I have more of course, but the list is quite long.)

* Downloading some apps (Vogue Runway happened to be so interesting!)

* Learn how to draw online thanks to several YouTubers + downloading some drawing apps

I still suck, but I'll get better!

* Listening a lot of music

* Learn some psychology and color analysis

* Read books that have nothing to do with it such as novels, because that makes my heart flutter and my mind gets creative. Sometimes I even try to draw something that some of the characters might be wearing...

* Bought myself a sewing machine

* I'm trying to have enough patience to figure out how to use it (thanks again YouTubers, for making my life so easy 😭🤧)

* Acknowledging how fashion industry especially fast fashion is contaminating our planet (check out this blog!) and trying to figure out the way to start with sewing but I'm too intimidated by it rn 😭💀

* Studying how to re-do my portfolio, (because thank you internet for existing!)

* Studying make up on my own and learning some of the basics of cosmetology, because that's another passion of mine.

* Studying business and fashion marketing

* Realizing that technology is advancing so fast, nowadays there's even sprays that can create dresses or AI combining with holograms that will make our life as designers a bit more easy when choosing a fabric. But they can also put everything at risk if there's nothing to protect us as humans that create these beautiful clothes we use every day.

Keep in mind that I'm a self taught student. Sometimes I take classes to cover certain aspects but I don't think I am an expert at all in the field. If you have a recommendation, a comment or something you want to share to help me with my path I would really appreciate the feedback.

I'm currently looking for YouTubers that help me covering the basics of sewing and learning about fabrics, especially about fabrics! I'll keep y'all posted.<3

[msclaritea]

The Great Reset is not a button in the hand of Klaus Schwab, but a lever that elites have pulled for 122 years.

An early manifestation of the concept is found in the 1901 non-fiction book 'Anticipations' by science fiction writer H.G. Wells. In his boom, Wells said society was historically and properly split between the “superior class” and the “working cultivator, peasant, serf or slave.”

That changed with the Industrial Revolution and “the appearance of great masses of population” who enabled “an entire disintegration of that system.”

“[W]ithout a total destruction and rebirth of that fabric, there can never be any return,” he warned.

Wells called the common people usurping power a “bulky, irremovable excretion of vicious, helpless and pauper masses … drifting down towards the abyss.” He deemed them “inferior in their claim upon the future … [which] cannot be given opportunities or trusted with power…. To give them equality is to sink to their level, to protect and cherish them is to be swamped in their fecundity.”

Anticipations said the “increase in population” fueled by better living standards was “the greatest evil in life.” Therefore, the “ascendant or dominant nation” would be one “that most resolutely picks over, educates, sterilizes, exports or poisons its people of the abyss.”

He called for a “new republic” that “can prevent the birth of just the in-adaptable, useless or merely unnecessary creatures in each generation.”

Wells predicted governments would “hold life to be a privilege,” guiding it with eugenics and imposing death “with little pity and less benevolence.” Instead, “[T]hose swarms of black, and brown, and dirty-white, and yellow people, who do not come into the new needs of efficiency … will have to go.”

Book publishing would be restricted to “intelligently critical men … of the new republic… developing the morality and education system of the future.”

Open markets, denigrated as “the region of the scramble,” could not last either. A true competitive environment threatened the elites’ economic hegemony, just as a real democracy threatened their political power.

“The emergent new republic will be attacking that mass of irresponsible property that is so unavoidable and so threatening under present conditions … [with a] scheme of death duties and heavy graduated taxes upon irresponsible incomes,” Wells predicted.

While the “competent” elite could protect their wealth in foundations and leverage it to transform the world, taxes would “expropriate and extinguish incompetent rich families” — the wealthy who didn’t share Wells’ vision. “[W]hether violently as a revolution or quietly and slowly, this gray confusion that is democracy must pass away inevitably… into the higher stage — the world-state of the coming years,” Wells said.

Through “elements of technical treason,” elites and leading officials in governments would form “a new republic as a sort of outspoken secret society” of “a confluent system of trust-owned business organisms… universities and reorganized military and naval services” that mimicked a state.

Did politicians distance themselves from this radical? Sadly, no.

After 'Anticipations' was published, Wells had a public audience with U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt who Wells later called, “the creative will in man” he admired. Before 'Anticipations,' Wells named Woodrow Wilson among the “intelligently critical men of the new republic.” His 1913-1920 presidency fulfilled Wells’ vision as the Federal Reserve Bank, graduated income taxes, and estate (death) taxes were introduced. An academic advisory group Wilson formed in 1917 later reconstituted itself as the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR.)

In the 1920s, Wells had an affair with Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood who later advanced the birth control pill. Wells called her “the greatest woman in the world” and predicted “the movement she started will grow to be, a hundred years from now, the most influential of all time in controlling man’s destiny on earth.”

Wells met three times with President Franklin Roosevelt in the 1930s. He called Roosevelt “continually revolutionary” and “the most effective transmitting instrument possible for the coming of the new world order.”

Although Wells died in 1946, his ideology did not.

In 1991, the late David Rockefeller said, “The supranational sovereignty of an intellectual elite and world bankers is surely preferable to the national auto determination practiced in past centuries.”

Until his passing in 2017, Rockefeller was part of the enormously influential CFR, Bilderberg Group, and the Trilateral Commission, which he founded in 1973. In a 2003 interview, he said he knew more heads of state than anyone, except possibly Henry Kissinger.

Kissinger eulogized his “friend” Rockefeller in the Washington Post. The former U.S. Secretary of State has been a CFR member since 1956 and was a mentor to his Harvard University pupil Klaus Schwab. Schwab founded the European Management Forum in 1971, and rebranded it as the World Economic Forum in 1987. From the beginning, Schwab’s organization gathered hundreds of executives annually in Davos, Switzerland to shape the direction of corporate influence. He founded a mentorship program in 1993 called the Global Leaders of Tomorrow, rebranded as the Young Global Leaders in 2004.

An excusive and influential list of political and economic leaders have been mentored by the WEF or participated in its events, including Canadian Deputy Prime Minister Chrystia Freeland, who sits on its board of directors. A comment by Schwab at Harvard University on Sept. 20, 2017 was telling.

“We penetrate the cabinets. So yesterday I was at a reception for Prime Minister Trudeau and I will know that half of this cabinet or even more … are from our Young Global Leaders.”

In 2020, Schwab proposed a “’Great Reset’ of capitalism” that would “revamp all aspects of our societies and economies, from education to social contracts and working conditions.”

Citizens worldwide should be wary. It's not a new idea...

Rule by the elites would be for the elites and leave government by the people for the people an expired 250-year experiment.

[riftdancing]

𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓢𝓲𝔂𝓸𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼..

A collection of memories and aesthetics which Siyoh embodies.   - 2023 revision

Loud late summer storms when you can feel the thunder resonate in your soul.

Sunlight shining through velvety silver cat ears showing tender veins.

A delicate visage, deceptively tough and martially learned.

Pressing finger tips against bruised knuckles just to feel the tenderness.

Soft silks and intricate patterns, and coins/bells which jingle for days.

Fog rolling in on the coast on a cloudy, chilly, day.

Richly spiced teas, brews, and elaborate tea sets.

Prancing feet and practicing steps while doing chores.

Sweet soft lullabies and hushed hummed songs.

The magical chill & silence of autumn’s first frost & winter’s first snow.

Off to market wearing your family’s heritage to make a good impression.

Tender ashen flesh which absorbs the color and the light of a room.

Intricate fabrics in bright colors. (Teal, red, and sunrise colours.)

Confections from all corners of Aldenard learned through culinary study.

Bare feet twirling across patterned carpets.

Self sufficient, a strong pride in independence and hard work.

Walking into a lived in home, hearth blazing, and the scent of slow cooked confections lingering in the air.

Everything is fresh.  The vegetables are from the garden, the fruit hand picked in the hills, the wheat grown earlier in the year purchased from local farmlands.  Spices pressed, ground, and preserved fresh.

Impish hijinks shared between best and childhood friends.

A sense of family, even after being orphaned.   The people you have left are the most important.  Keep them.  Protect them.  Cherish them.

Moles dotted like constellations against pale flesh.

A tango of two cultures. Hannish and Doman. 

The scent of mandarin orange and cherry blossom.