#Walk Behind Trimmer

[jayblackpanther]

Grizzly Bear

Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Just pure sweetness, some swearing because it’s Frank.

Frank Castle was a lot of things. Soldier. Ghost. Walking warpath. And lately?

A damn bear.

The first time you noticed it, he was fresh out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, another one in hand as he ruffled it through his longer-than-usual hair. It was curling at the ends now, thick and dark, dripping onto his shoulders. His beard had grown fuller, too—still neatly shaped, but bordering on wild.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, and something in your brain short-circuited.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said gruffly, not even glancing your way.

“Like what?” you asked innocently, eyes very much not innocent as they roamed his body. “Like you’re a damn lumberjack and I’m about to beg you to chop wood with your bare hands?”

That got his attention. He turned, one brow raised. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re hot,” you countered, completely shameless. “You’re like…a sexy grizzly bear.”

He groaned. Loudly. Dramatically. “Don’t start with that.”

But you did. And you didn’t stop.

You started calling him “Grizzly” when you handed him coffee. You scratched gently at his beard when you were curled up on the couch. You bought him a flannel shirt as a joke and nearly combusted when he actually wore it. He grumbled the whole time, muttered something about “damn woman trying to domesticate me,” but never took it off.

It became a thing.

You’d sneak up behind him while he was working at the table, running your fingers through his hair and whispering, “My big fluffy bear,” until he growled low in his throat—but never told you to stop. He liked it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

And when you brushed his beard after a long day, sitting between his legs on the floor while he leaned back on the couch with half-lidded eyes? That man was putty.

It all came to a head one random Tuesday night.

You walked into the bathroom and caught him in front of the mirror, electric trimmer in hand.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you gasped like he’d committed a crime.

Frank froze, caught red-handed. “It’s gettin’ too long,” he muttered. “Was just gonna clean it up—”

“Clean it up?” You practically lunged forward, snatching the trimmer from his hand. “No! No way. That beard is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

He stared at you, bewildered. “You serious right now?”

“Deadly,” you replied, clutching the trimmer like a weapon. “You do not rob me of the beard. Or the hair. Or the flannel. I need Grizzly Frank in my life.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, chuckling low under his breath. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re lucky I’m insane for you,” you said, tiptoeing up to kiss his jaw—soft and bristly under your lips. “You keep this up, and I’m gonna start making you growl for me.”

That earned a smirk. “Already do, sweetheart.”

You looked at him, touched his cheek gently, and sighed. “You’re beautiful like this. Soft edges. Wild. It suits you. You suit you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked down at you with that unreadable expression that always made your heart stutter. Then, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you slightly as he held you to his chest.

“You’re the only one who sees it,” he murmured into your hair.

“I see everything,” you whispered back. “And I love it all.”

So, he kept the hair. Kept the beard. Kept letting you call him “Grizzly Bear” in public, even though it made him blush behind the gruff act.

And every time you curled up beside him, fingers tangled in that dark, soft beard, he’d nuzzle your cheek and murmur—

“Yours.”

[logansobsession]

Intoxicating Desire

Pairings: Logan Howlett x fem! mutant reader

Summary: You and Logan have always been close friends, you knew everything about each other and did everything together. The only thing Logan doesn't do, is sit where your power is strongest: the greenhouse. Logan has never seen or heard about your power.

Word count: 4.8 K

Content Warnings: Explicit (18+ mdni), Smut, dirty thoughts, spitting, spicy tension, age gap, praising kink, no use of y/n, reader has ability to control plants and produce flowers from body, along with other flower related things, borderline sub!, teasing, choking.

A/N: This has been sitting in the back of my mind for the past week, I love me a weak Logan * cries out*. Something about his shell breaking and being putty in our hands makes ME turn to putty. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

The greenhouse. The place you go to find solace. Granted, it's the only place you can go to feel your powers fully. With being "graced" with the mutation to control plants, along with sprouting whatever you decide from your body.

The silence. The pure oxygen from the plants. It's otherworldly to you, keeping you chained there for hours, sometimes days. Most of your friends at the mansion know about your mutation. But, it's never spoken per your request. Everyone has such powerful mutations, spectacles of wonder and curiosity, then there's you. The plant girl.

You used to hate the mutation when you were shipped to the mansion at 16. Suppressing it any moment given. Charles spent hours upon hours with you, slowly teaching you to love and use the mutation in beautiful ways. Hank taught you how to control your frustrations and anger, which made it more difficult to control it. Scott... Scott didn't teach anything to you, he just enjoyed watching the show when you did use the mutation.

But Logan? He became your best friend, in the aspects of being your mentor. Taught you how to fight and defend yourself during hand to hand combat. He was there to offer a silent shoulder when you cried about boys, to hanging out with you. In fact, you guys hung out everywhere. Until Charles had the greenhouse built for you shortly after turning 18.

Logan never came to visit you when you would hole yourself up for hours. Nobody did really. The only person that visited you was Hank, but he couldn't handle the humidity as well as you did.

Today was humid, but rain pouring down as if the gods were crying. Which meant you would receive no visitors. The constant assault of rain upon the see through roof provided a lulling background noise, it was almost calming enough to let you rest there.

Logan was walking around the halls, bored out of his mind, he didn't have anything to do so he decided to try and find something or someone to cure his boredom with. He turned the corner and began to approach the greenhouse.

You stood in front of a rose bush, trimming any dead or sick leaves and stems from the bush. The rain was a constant sound, almost drowning out the sound of Logan's knocking before entering the greenhouse.

He stood at the entrance to the greenhouse, peering in at you, watching you for a moment before deciding to interrupt you.

"Hey." He said in a gruff voice.

You jumped in surprise, clutching at your heart before smiling.

"Hey! You finally visiting? Or is it too hot in here for you?"

"Too hot?" He raised a questioning eyebrow and shut the door behind him, the temperature in the room didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Seems fine in here to me."

You nod and laugh "Most of them don't enjoy being in here because it gets fairly humid. I think the rain cooled it down a significant amount today." as you gesture to the roof with the plant trimmers before resuming your task.

"Eh, I've been through worse." He shrugged, slowly drawing closer to you, looking over your shoulder to see what you were doing.

You smile again, continuing your work. "I'm cutting any sick or dead stems from the bush. Keeps the plant itself from getting sick or dying."

You look over your shoulder at him. "Would you like a stool? I usually keep one nearby incase Hank or Scott come to visit."

"Nah, I'm fine." He insisted, as he leaned against the wall, he continued to watch you as you worked, he wasn't all that interested in what you were doing with the plant; he was more interested in you to be honest, he'd just never come to check on you as he usually avoided the greenhouse.

"Alright, suit yourself." You shrug your shoulders before doing a final check on the bush, ensuring you didn't leave any behind. You take a step back and smile at your work.

"Now that's a healthy rose bush if I do say so myself." You walk back to the center of the greenhouse, a midsize willow tree surrounded by stone bricks. You sit down on the stone and pat the empty spot next to you.

He watched you as you sat down and pat next to you, beckoning him to sit with you. Logan pushed himself off the wall and stalked over to you, taking a seat next to you. Even sitting down he still dwarfed you in both size and stature, he leaned against the trunk of the tree but still turned his head to look at you, with an eyebrow raised.

You stare up at the willow, and smile. As you're looking up, you say "Isn't it beautiful? Charles picked the location of the green house for the sole purpose of this willow. It's soothing in a way. Branches drooping, almost sad in a constant melancholy state."

He also looked up at the willow, and he had to agree that it was beautiful. As he watched the branches sway, he also noticed the way that they seemed to droop, as if they were sad.

"It does have a calming presence to it." He agreed as he sat by your side, watching the willow.

You break your gaze from the willow, bringing it to Logan. "So how come you never come to the greenhouse? I'm almost always in here. Granted, no one likes the plant loving mutant and her weird fascination with plants, so I don't blame any of you."

He turned his face to look at you, he thought for a moment in whether he should be fully honest with you or not. He let out a sigh before speaking.

"It's not that I have anything against you, I just ain't a big fan in spending a whole lot of time around plants, or inside for that matter."

You nod your head, listening to him as he spoke. You pat your hands against your lap before you stood in front of him "Do you actually think I'm a mutant... like you?" you say as you place your hands on your hips.

Logan raised an eyebrow curiously as you asked the question. What a strange and out of the blue question to ask, he thought to himself as he looked up at you. He also noticed a shift in your tone. So leaned back against the willow and took a moment to think about his answer, before responding, "If I had to make a guess... I'd think you're a mutant."

You nod your head and smile. "That is correct. But my mutation isn't anything special. So I never use it." You shrug before picking up the trimmers and walk over to a patch of lilacs.

He continued to watch you as you moved over to a different plant. He stood up and followed you to the patch of lilacs. " Why don't you use it? You've been here for years, and I've never seen you do anything different?"

You get down on your knees and slowly start your work on the lilacs "Well it doesn't serve any real purpose, so I don't use it. I'm not a show off like some people in the mansion." You turn your head up at Logan and smile innocently.

He chuckled at your response, "No, you're too sweet to be that kind of person." A thought suddenly crossed his mind, he looked down at the lilacs as you worked on them.

"May I ask you something?"

You smile wider at Logan's compliment and turn your head back to the lilacs "Of course, I'm an open book. You can ask me anything."

He watched you for a moment as you continued to work. He paused for a moment, he was suddenly feeling a bit nervous but he didn't show outward signs of it. "So, what exactly is your mutation then?"

You let out a small sigh and slowly stand up. You walk back to the willow, setting the trimmers down. " I'm a little rusty, it's not something I do often, so bear with me." You say, brushing your hands off on your apron. "Come here" You hold out your hand for Logan to come near.

He watched you as you finished up and put the trimmers down. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity as you held out your hand and gestured for him to come closer. He hesitantly stepped closer towards you.

"Come closer...I need you closer for this." You wave him to come closer. You shake your arms and shoulders, growing nervous as to if you can even do it anymore. You smile and wink at Logan, " This is my favorite party trick. But I save it for special people."

He watched you as you stood in front of him with a nervous smile. He raised his eyebrow as you said it was a "party trick". Still, he was more than intrigued to know what exactly what your trick was. He stepped even closer to you, standing in front of you.

You place your hands softly on Logan's chest, over his heart. I looked up at him, " I need you to think about something or someone you care about or love. Whatever it may be. Okay?" You raise your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

He took a sharp breath as you placed your hands on his chest. He felt his heart rate pick up as you did so. He looked down at you, noticing you had gotten closer to him. He nodded, he had someone in his mind.

"Alright. I got what I need in mind."

Logan watched in surprise as the green house began to change around the both of you, as vines and branches creeped up the glass walls, making it much darker inside than it was before. He looked up at the roof and saw it covered in vines and branches. He watched as vines slowly crept down, blooming into long tufts of wisteria. He looked back down at you, he was shocked to see you exerting this kind of power. He'd never expected it from someone of your nature. Still, he kept his mouth shut, eager to see what you'd do next.

You let out a ragged breath, searching for any more power you had. Slowly, hues of pinks and purples erupted from your hair. Tiny flowers blossomed, framing your face perfectly. You open your eyes, breathing hard and smiling. Your hands still resting on Logan's chest as you say "Like my party trick?" You look around at the vines and flowers covering the inside of the greenhouse.

He was speechless, he looked around in awe at the greenhouse. Covered in vines, with wisteria everywhere. His eyes fell back down to you as you spoke. He looked over your face, noticing all the tiny flowers framing your pretty face. He blinked a few times in shock, until he finally came back to his sense and spoke, his voice slightly shaky from the shock. "That's a pretty amazing party trick you have there."

You smile and gently remove your hands from Logan's chest. He remained in a daze, watching you pat his chest before removing your hands. You looked up at the ceiling, proud of the show you had put on for Logan, after not using your abilities in at least two years.

You reached up, grabbing a small tuft of wisteria, opening Logan's hand and placing the flower in his hand gently. He felt his heart skip a beat as you grabbed his hand, placing the flower there. He could feel butterflies in his stomach as you looked at him.

Your face grows warm before speaking up, " I do have one little more part of my mutation that I didn't tell you about."

Logan raise an eyebrow slightly at your words, listening intently as you spoke. You'd piqued his curiosity. A part of your mutation that you hadn't told him about? He found that interesting and honestly a bit annoying that you hadn't told him already.

"There's a part to your mutation that you haven't told me about? And what is that part, sweetheart?"

You smile, taking a step back so you could clearly see his face. "You know some flowers release a scent? An almost intoxicating scent that's alluring to the senses?"

He glanced after you as you stepped away from him, watching as you brought your hands to your sides. He nodded his head, already knowing where you're going with this. He was already realizing that you'd been holding something back from him. "Yeah, I know what you're talking about, why?"

You stay silent point to yourself, hoping he makes the connection. It took him a moment, but he soon caught on to what you were hinting at. And as soon as he had, he swore his knees almost buckled at the realization.

"You-your flowers do release a scent that's luring to the senses?"

You nod, "Some of them yes. As an extra boost. But Charles taught me to suppress my emotions and this because it acts as pheromone." You state. You take a few moments in silence. "Would you like to see what I mean?"

He didn't even have to think before nodding his head, he wanted to see un-suppress this little ability of yours, seeing the effects it'd have just out of pure curiosity. " Yeah, I'd like to see what you mean. Go on sweetheart go ahead and show me."

You sit down on the stone by the willow tree and close your eyes. You mentally unravel everything Charles had taught you. Slowly. But surely, a rainbow of colors blossomed within your hair and an intoxicating scent mixed with your pheromones.

Logan was absolutely mesmerized as he watched you sit down and close your eyes, watching in wonder as the normally subtle blossoms in your hair began to explode to an almost dazzling spectrum of colors. And as the intoxicating scent mixed your pheromones, he strange sort of need grow in his chest.

"Sweetheart... What are you doing to me..."

The scent grew stronger, becoming easily detected by the normal senses. It filled the green house, almost creating an invisible haze. The scent was slowly driving Logan crazy. His breathing was getting heavier in response to it, the smell being intoxicating like you had said. He felt something deep within him respond and almost beg for him to get physically closer to you.

"Fuck... darling...the smell... It's messing with me..."

You opened your eyes slowly while holding your breath and looked at Logan. You tilted your head in a way of saying "I told you so" before closing your eyes again and cutting off the scent from emanating any more. You stood up and walked back to Logan and smiled.

The moment you'd cut off the scent, he felt like he'd suddenly been doused in a bucket of cold water. He was suddenly able to actually get his bearings again, able to realize how strongly he'd been affected by you un-suppressing that part of your mutation.

"Jesus Christ... that scent was... something else.. I don't think I've ever felt that type of need for someone, sweetheart..."

You dramatically bow, and stand back up straight. " And that is why I spent four years training alone with Charles. All in the mind."

Logan chuckled softly, feeling amused at how dramatically you had bowed just to emphasize the effectiveness of the power you had just revealed. " Damn... I can't really blame Charles for spending that much time with you to make sure you'd be able to control it. If you could just let that loose, anytime, you'd have every single person in the mansion swooning over you in no time."

You look down at your hands momentarily, " That isn't it at the strongest, I know your heightened senses are probably raw from that little bit. I could show you, but if you need fresh air, I promise I won't be mad at you Logan."

As the scent of the flowers still lingered throughout the air, mixing with the subtle but still present smell of your pheromones. It was driving him insane, like a constant itch in the back of his mind, to just grab you and keep you close to him. "Darling I'm not going anywhere."

He hadn't completely regained control yet and he sure as hell wasn't going to leave you alone when he was still being affected by you. You look at him and nod, understanding. " I'll go somewhere where you can't hurt me and I can stop anytime that you want me to."

His breath hitched slightly at your question. His head was still clouded from the scent that had filled the green house and he couldn't think clearly enough to decide whether that would be a good idea or not. Something deep within him was still demanding and almost begging for him to get closer to you, to hold you in his arms. But he somehow managed to answer coherently

"You sure you want to do that sweetheart?"

"I want to show you what it's like if I went out on a field mission with you guys." You start speaking as you look at Logan. "I can't direct it yet at a single person, so if I use it against an enemy, it'll also affect the entire team."

Logan nodded as you spoke, listening intently. The strong scent still filled the air, his mind still in a haze. He was definitely tempted to get closer to you, but he managed to rein in his urges, barely..

"So that's why you can't actually go missions... it'll affect the team as well, not just the enemies.."

You nod your head "Yes. It's really the only useful and semi powerful thing in relation to my mutation..." You trail off, bringing your hand back to Logan's chest. "Are you sure you want to go through it again?"

He was tempted to just wrap his arms around you the second you put your hand on his chest, feeling it like a jolt to his system that just further made it hard to think. But he managed to answer you again,

"Yeah. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let's see what happens."

"Stay right there and don't move" you say with a serious tone coating your voice. You walk over to the willow tree and begin climbing in.

You reach the part of the tree that has a groove, perfect for sitting, a place you commonly rested at. You sat yourself in a way that Logan could still see you, but still in a way that would prevent you from falling in case you fainted.

"And you're positive that you want to do this?"

Logan watched as you went and climbed the tree. He was definitely having to exert every last ounce of willpower and strength he had to follow your instructions and just stay where he was and not follow you up that damn tree. "Sweetheart, I'm positive. Go ahead and show me what you got."

You close your eyes and open your arms from your body. Flowers blossoming from your head, painting your arms in hues of pinks and purples. You slowly begin to smell the familiar scent you spent hours holding deep down, radiate from your skin. As your eyes are closed and focusing on your body, you softly say "This isn't full power... Are you okay?"

The moment he felt the scent return to the air and begin to permeate throughout the greenhouse, all control Logan had was gone; the scent completely taking over his mind within moments. All he could think about was getting up to you, how perfect you would fit in his arms, and how much he just wanted to get close and touch you. But he tried to answer you in a coherent way. "Yeah... I'm fine... keeping going.."

You take a deep breath and let your mind and body begin to take over. You mentally go to a different place as the scent grows unbearably strong. Your body begins to sweat, beads of sickly sweet sweat rolling from your face down onto your cleavage. The sweat creates an even more pungent aroma that mingles with the scent within the greenhouse.

Logan's breathing was becoming shakier with every second that passed, feeling the scent grow even stronger and that mixed with the beads of sweat slowly making their way down your body was driving him absolutely insane. He was still having to exercise every ounce of self control to not follow you up the damn tree, desperately fighting against the overwhelming urge to just grab you and make you his.

"Oh...God... sweetheart you're making this so damn goddamn hard..."

It's been so long since you've let go like this, the release of pent up energy felt good, too good. You lean back hard, back connecting with the thick tree branch as the scent rolls off of you in thick, aggressive waves, as your self control whittles down to nothing.

He was at the very edge of his willpower by this point, the scent was so damn strong now and the sight of you lean back, sweat rolling down your body was taking every ounce of control he had away.

"Fuck...sweetheart you're going to send me over the edge... I swear to God I'm gonna completely lose it if you go anymore..."

Logan's voice sounding further away as you drift away from the control you had spent years precising. You knew deep down that you would have to go back to working with Charles, but in the very moment, it felt soothing to finally lose control.

Logan couldn't think clearly at all by this point, the scent that filled the air and the sight of your body, sweat beginning to soak your camisole, were driving him past the brink of sanity.

"God... Sweetheart... I can't hold back anymore.. I'm gonna do something...I'm warning you now"

You relish in the feeling of release, realizing that it needs to be done more than not doing it at all. Flowers and thin vines erupting from your hands, crawling and wrapping slowly around the tree; creating more open pockets to release the intoxicating aroma.

That was it.

You relishing in the release and the sight of the vines and flowers from your hands, wrapping around the tree was the last straw for Logan. He couldn't hold back anymore and as such, he gave in to the urge, not caring anymore.

"God DAMN it... I warned you." He let out a growl as he quickly ran towards the tree.

You laid there in uncontrolled bliss, too far off of the edge on control to reel it back in. Logan quickly jumped, using every ounce of his strength to scale the tree and get up to where you were, looking absolutely feral as he approached you, where you were sitting in the small groove of the tree.

"Oh sweetheart... look at you... you look like an absolute mess.. like a damn vision sitting up here... a vision that's mine to touch."

You barely feel Logan's body heat as your senses are far more defined than before. But all control of this has been lost and you lay there deep within your mind.

He quickly crowded towards you, leaning over you slightly as you sat there in a sort of half dazed state in the tree. He was feeling very, very possessive of you in this moment, seeing you with sweat coating your body; flowers and vines from your hands wrapping around the tree, and that scent of yours filling the air.

"God you're so damn perfect like this, so damn gorgeous.. so damn mine to touch..."

The lull of release temporarily becomes bearable and you slowly come back to your mind, scent still radiating from your body. You open your eyes and see Logan leaning over you, eyes dark and filled with desire.

He was looming over you, body almost fully caging you to the trunk of the tree. Eyes dark, nothing but lust and wild with possessiveness as he looked down on you, seeing you slowly start to come back to your senses. He couldn't help but take in the sight of you, practically drenched in sweat and flowers, sitting there in a half-dazed state of release at his touch. "There you are... look at you doll... a complete mess..."

You hazily smiled, closing your eyes once again, more vines erupting from your hands, slowly slinking around Logan, tying him in place all while pulling him closer. You whisper to him gently "I told you it's a lot."

Logan tried to bite back a moan as he was suddenly enveloped by the vines from your hands, feeling them wrap around his arms and legs, pulling him even closer until he was fully pressed against you, completely at your mercy.

"Doll... you're killing me here.. you feel so damn good..."

You look at him through half-lidded eyes, whispering "You doing okay?"

He nodded quickly at your question, feeling like his body had never been more alive and on fire than right then. Being all tied up by the vines from your hands, being held so close against you, the aroma of flowers and the sweat from your body being absolutely overpowering...

"Yeah... I'm doing more than okay sweetheart.."

A vine slowly snaked up Logan's back and around his neck, wrapping itself firmly around his neck as more flowers blossomed, releasing the aroma right underneath his nose.

He practically saw stars as the vine began to wrap around his neck, flowers releasing more of the damn intoxicating scent and completely scrambling his mind even more. He let out an almost guttural sounding moan at the intense feeling, the vines and scent making it increasingly difficult to think.

"God... sweetheart.. that feels so goooood...."

You close your eyes once more, controlling the vines wrapping Logan, pulling him face to face with me. The vine grips at Logan's neck again, you open your eyes again and smile. " Told you it's powerful.." You whisper against his lips.

Logan looked completely feral with how he practically on the verge of losing it as you pulled his face even closer, the vine around his neck tugging again, making the sensation even more intense. He let out a guttural moan again at how good it felt being wrapped up and completely within your power, being so close to your face with your lips just barely touching his.

" God sweetheart... you're insane."

You open your mouth just barely, dragging your tongue against Logan's bottom lip before bringing it into your mouth, biting and tugging at it before releasing it. "Tell me what you want to do to me Logan...please."

Logan practically whimpered at that, the feeling of your tongue against his bottom lip and you biting and tugging was more intense than he really expected it to be, driving him insane. He let out another guttural moan as you released his lip, feeling completely under your control as he managed to answer

"I want.. want to touch you.. kiss you.. feel your bare skin against mine.. just have you completely."

A low hum radiates from your throat as you bite Logan's bottom lip again, harder and drawing blood from his lip. "Tell me what you want to do to my body Logan."

He let out another moan as you bite his lip again, drawing blood. It hurt, but he couldn't focus on the pain as the feeling being tangled and held by the vines and being held so damn close you was overwhelming.

"God..I'm..I'm gonna kiss your body all over.. gonna feel your skin.. gonna devour every damn inch of you and make you mine..."

You hum again, "Tell me you're mine... tell me you'll be mine to use and play with whenever my little heart desires Logan.."

He let out a moan at the hum you gave him, feeling more and more like he was yours to use and play with. His primal side was fully taking over at this point as he answered.

" God yes... I'm yours sweetheart, I'm all yours.. I'll be yours to use and play with whenever your damn little heart pleases..."

You close your eyes, tightening the vine around Logan's neck even more "Good boy..." You whisper, praising him.

Logan let out another moan as the vine around his neck was tightened even more, his breathing becoming even more labored as it took him everything he had to answer you. His mind completely fogged over by how this felt, being so completely captured by you, completely at your mercy.

"God... yes... I'm your good boy.. please sweetheart... don't stop... keep going.. I'm all yours..."

[dancingtotuyo]

11. up from the dust, inconceivable love

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Ellie learns the truth. Your family gains a member.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort and no comfort?, self worth issues, canon violence, anger, child birth, spoilers for TLOU 2 (we’re entering the timeline that starts to burrow things for part 2 of the game)

Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!

Words: 5352

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

“What do you think of Peace?” You ask, propped up in bed, hand over your swollen stomach. You’ve gained more weight this time, probably because you’re not in the throes of grief. 

“I mean, I’m a fan. I hope everyone is.” Joel says, trimming his facial hair with the bathroom door wide open. 

You bite your lip, admiring the expanse of his bare back. If getting out of bed wasn’t an event, you would be behind him right now, kissing his shoulders. 

“No, as a name for a girl,” you say. Joel turns around looking at you like he’s contemplating checking you into a psychiatric ward if those still existed. “A middle name, not a first name.” 

Joel sets his trimmers down, leaning in the doorway shirtless. “And what would her first name be?” 

“Willow.”

Joel furrows his brow stepping into your bedroom, your shared bedroom. “Darlin, I know we live in a commune, but we’re not hippies.”

“You bring me wildflowers and we walk barefoot through the fields. I wouldn’t be so sure.” You can’t help but laugh. Joel cracks a smile. “Do you have suggestions then?”

“Thought about naming Sarah- Katherine.”

You make a face. You know one too many Kates and Katies even in Jackson.

“It’s not a bad name,” Joel chuckles. 

“Neither is Willow.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re a hippie?”

“Would you leave if I said yes?”

Joel shrugs “I don’t know, but I knocked you up so I guess I have to stay.” He crawls into the bed. His head is level with your stomach as he watches for movement. 

You roll your eyes. “How romantic.”

He grins up at you and then his eyes are back on your belly. He rests a hand at the top, staring, waiting in wonderment. Neither of you can believe this is all real. Your baby moves around all the time, kicking your bladder and lungs, signifying life. A life you did not think would make it. 

You thread your fingers through Joel’s soft brown hair. The outline of a foot appears and then disappears. Joel’s eyes sparkle and he kisses the same spot. He’s soft and gentle. In these moments, all your anxieties are carried away like leaves on an autumn breeze. This is your peace. 

“What other names did you have picked out for Carter?”

You bite your lip. “We didn’t have any other boys' names.”

“And if he’d been a girl?” He’s still enthralled with your stomach as if there’s been an enchantment cast over it. 

“Sarah.”

His head snaps up. 

“Tommy and I talked about her a lot when I was pregnant. She was on my mind… being a part of Sarah’s life made me realize I wanted a family… even in this world where I had no right to do so.”

You keep playing with his hair. His eyes go glassy making you wonder what memory is playing behind his eyes. You stay like that until Joel is ready to talk. Eventually, he sits up, clearing his throat. His lips touch yours. 

“What about Willa?”

You tilt your head to the side. You don’t really see how it’s any different than Willow, but you’re not going to bring that up. “I like it.” 

“And Miles for a boy.” His smile returns. He doesn’t tell you that he’s positive you’re having a girl.

“Miles is an old man's name!”

“Good, then he’ll grow to be an old man.”

You take in a sharp breath. It’s just an offhand comment, but it carries so much weight. It’s a stark reminder of the heaviness of the world, and the twinge of guilt you feel bringing another child into it. 

Joel takes your hand, kissing your palm. You see it in his eyes too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve-”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers comb through his hair. He leans into your touch. His grays are more noticeable than they were a year ago, but the brown still outnumbers them. 

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks.

“I don’t know… I- I haven’t really let myself think about it until today.” It's true. The fact of the matter is you’re within a month of your due date. You and Joel are so close to welcoming this baby into the world and are wildly unprepared. 

“We’re getting close… We need a crib.” 

“The one I used for Carter is in the attic.”

“I can bring it down in the morning.”

“I need to get some baby clothes. I traded all of Carter’s.” 

“Looks like we have a bunch of work to do, Mama,” Joel smiles, kissing your forehead. He still hasn't told you about the swaddles and onesies tucked in the back of his drawer, but it seems you’re finally ready for them.

You cock your head to the side, contemplating the nickname. There’s a mix of emotions with it. You’re already a mother. Joel is a father, but this is a life you’re bringing in together. It’s uncharted territory for both of you. Sarah’s mom was out the door before she was six months old. Neither of you have done this part with a partner before. 

A sharp knock on the front door pulls your mind from its wandering. Joel’s brow furrows, rolling out of the bed. People don’t knock on your door often. They usually barrel right in, unless it’s bad. Your stomach drops. 

Joel is out of the bedroom, shrugging on a shirt. Dina’s voice calls through your home. “Hello?” She sounds worried, desperate. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. It takes more time to stand these days. If you try too quickly, your head rushes making you feel dizzy. 

“Dina? What’s wrong?” Joel’s at the bottom of the stairs now, but his voice carries. You have to stop at the top of the stairs to catch your breath. 

“Ellie is gone.”

You freeze, grabbing the railing for stability. “What?”

Joel turns around, worry etched in his face. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. She mentioned something about the Fireflies and a hospital, but she wouldn’t talk to me.” You make out the flicker of hurt in Dina’s face. Those two tell each other everything, or most things. You’re not sure Ellie has told her about her immunity. You all keep that one pretty close to your chests. 

“Shit,” Joel mumbles. He glances between you at his back and the front door in front of him. You see the push and pull. He needs to go after her. He needs to be here for you. 

His eyes settle on you. Your hand settles on top of your swollen belly. He’s looking for permission. You want to give it, but what if he’s needed here before he gets back. 

“She’s been off lately. I don’t know why. She won’t talk to me.” Dina seems to sense the silent conversation going on. “I can go after her, but-“

“No, I need to go.” Joel swings back toward the teenager, both hands placed on his hips. You try to bite back the panic rising inside you. He’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine. “Do you know when she left?”

“Probably sometime before the sun came up. Shimmer isn’t in the stable.” 

Joel lets out a ragged sigh, hands running over his face. You try to keep the tears away, your hormones making it difficult. 

“Will you let Maria know I’m going after her? I need to pack.” 

Dina nods, her eyes flickering up to you before she’s gone in a flash of dark curls. Joel turns around, hand resting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You swallow and walk back into the bedroom. 

It’s silent at first, nothing but the sounds of draws opening and closing and the soft slaps of his leather saddle bags. You sit in silence at the edge of your bed, chewing on your lip as you watch him. Ellie needs him. It echoes on repeat in your brain. 

“I can probably catch her. We’ll be back in two weeks if I don’t.”

You stare down at your ever growing belly. You could easily be pregnant when he returns, but what if you’re not? You’re fairly certain you’ll have this baby sooner rather than later, but Ellie needs him too.

“Why does she want to go back to Salt Lake?”

Joel freezes for a second, like he’s contemplating his answer. It sets an uneasy feeling in your bones. “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks some of the Fireflies are still there? That this whole cure business is still an option?”

You nod, thoughts drifting to her face when you looked at her blood a couple months ago. She looked desperate. You hadn’t seen her like that before. It was almost unnerving, like the need to be needed by humanity had returned tenfold. It made you wonder if you’d been there for her enough these past few months.

“I have to go after her.”

There’s a desperation you don’t quite recognize in Joel’s eyes, sending a thread of dread through your body. Is he leaving something out? Not telling you something? You nod, biting your lip. “I know.”

He lays his hand on your bump, fingers stretching out over it. “We’ve got time.”

You nod. “Hurry back, and be safe, okay?”

Joel kisses your forehead. “Always.”

He rides out thirty minutes later. 

You try to stay busy while they’re gone, cleaning the clinic and the house thrice over as the nesting and anxiety sets in. You ask Tommy to get the crib out of the attic as you prep the corner of your bedroom for the baby, wiping it free from the dust and cobwebs. 

Maria hosts a small get together for you pulling together some semblance of a baby shower, something you hadn’t had with Carter. It's nice, but you feel like they skirt around the questions nagging in their brains. Where did Ellie and Joel go? Will they be back in time? You don’t have answers. You have the same fucking question. Will they be back? 

The braxton hicks kick up, so much so you think you’re in labor ten days after Joel rides out. The fear that courses through your body is so paralyzing that you just lay in bed. Your body tenses with the memory’s of Carter’s labor. It’s not the physical pain of it, but the emotional rollercoaster you went through, alone. You’re not supposed to do this alone this time.  

Then, the contractions stop with no explanation and you fall into a restless sleep. You miss Joel, his warmth and comfort. His unspoken love that fills the room. You’re becoming more comfortable with the idea of it. 

You miss Ellie too, worried about what she’s going through. Providing it’s still vacant, Salt Lake won’t hold any answer for her. What lengths will she go to? How many miles will she travel in search of answers you believe don’t exist? How will she handle reality? 

You see the differences in Carter too. In his mind, Ellie and Joel have always been here. Two weeks without them feels like a lifetime to him, and to you. 

On day twelve, your front door flies open as you come down the stairs. Ellie bursts through looking frantic and frazzled. Her short cropped hair sticks up in certain places. Dirt smudges her forehead. You’re too relieved to see her to worry about her appearance. If anything, it’s expected after two weeks of travel, but your relief is short lived. 

“Did you know?” She yells. The door stays wide open behind her, rage flaming in her eyes. 

“What?” 

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” You step toward her, reaching out, but she backs away like a wild animal.

“He killed them! All of them!” 

“Killed who? Ellie, take a deep breath.”

“Joel! He killed the fireflies! They had a cure!”

Your breath catches. It’s not that Joel has killed people. You know about the years he spent as a raider. You know the cost of surviving in this world, but this isn’t the story you have been told about Salt Lake. When you asked him why she would go back, he lied. He knew. Knew the story hadn’t lined up in Ellie’s mind. 

“So he lied to you too!”

“Ellie!” Joel is stern as his frame fills your doorway. 

She spins around, the week of silence she spent next to him on the road back, wrath bubbling over and focused on him. “Tell her! Tell her, Joel!” She steps toward him. “Tell her what you did!” She shoves against his shoulders. 

“Ellie…” He repeats her name, softer this time. 

“Don’t do that!” She turns back to you, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They were going to make a cure from me, and you stopped them! You slaughtered them!”

“They were going to kill you!”

Your eyes widen, and it makes sense. Why Joel hasn’t talked about it. Why he needed to go after her. Why Ellie feels so useless. She’d been promised the cure. He’d taken that from her with a facade of an excuse.

“You should have let them!” Ellie screams until she pushes past him, rushing out of your house. 

Joel lets out a sigh, defeat evident across his features. You can’t even enjoy their homecoming, their safety, your head spinning too much. 

Joel shuts the door behind him, stepping closer like he’s expecting an embrace, but you step back, a mother’s anger building in your bones. He looks surprised. “Sweetheart…”

“You lied to her.”

“I protected her.” Joel’s eyes narrow. He’s tired and irritable. Neither of you expected a fight to ensue the moment he got home. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You’ve watched her struggle with this for years!” 

“They were going to kill her!”

“Have you listened to anything she’s said?” 

You almost don’t recognize the Joel in front of you. He looks like a shell of the assured, warm man you know. You wonder if this is the version of Joel Tommy used to speak of. The one Joel has told you about during those late night chats when you spilled the depths of yourselves to each other, or you thought you had. The one who floated through his days, barely living. 

“I couldn’t lose her!” 

“Except you did!”

Joel straightens, shoulders setting in denial. “She’s alive! That’s what matters.”

“You’re missing the point!”

“You’re saying I should have let them go ahead with it! Let them cut open her head for a cure you don’t believe is possible!” 

Fire blazes in Joel's eyes. You see it. There’s no rationalizing with him about this. In his eyes, there were no choices to be made. He did the only thing. It doesn’t matter what else he has to sacrifice, she’s alive and that’s all that matters. “That’s not-”

He scoffs, cutting you off. You see the pain and hurt ripple through his body, causing him to step back from you. “Sure sounds like it.”

“Joel!”

“Don’t.” He yanks the front door open. “I can’t be here right now.” 

He disappears across the threshold in the blink of an eye leaving you with a mountain to process and a growing tension across your stomach.

Joel knows he’s in the wrong. He knows he shouldn’t have lied to Ellie, held the truth from you. He’s a grown man, of course he knows what’s right and wrong, but that admittance doesn’t do anything to calm him. He needs to get out. Out of the house. Out of the walls into the open. It doesn’t matter that he just came from two weeks out there. 

He sneaks over the wall with more ease than he should be able. Instantly, he feels the tightening in his chest begin to ease. He paces the outside of the wall like a caged animal, the series of events reeling through his mind. He doesn’t realize how much he’s been pushing it back since they left Salt Lake. Her words, her pleas, over and over. She’d given him every opportunity to tell her the truth and he kept the lie going. 

There was no cure. The words he’d utter to her after they found that couple, one dead the other infected while out on patrol. 

He’d almost told her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t risk it.  

His pacing becomes more frantic as he remembers the fear he felt at the thought of losing Ellie, the fear that pushed him into wiping away every firefly that crossed his path. The same fear that put lies in his mouth before he had time to think, that kept him from telling her the truth. He knew this would happen one day, but hadn’t been enough. He’d kept it from everyone, including you. 

Tell me, she had pleaded with him, begged him and he still felt the pull to replace his lie with another. 

She’d had to poke and prod to get the words from his mouth. Had to threaten to leave before she got the truth. That hurt almost as much as the fallout. Everyone thought he was a better man than he actually was. Ellie, you, himself, but when it came down to it. He failed that test. Good men don’t make someone threaten to leave to get the truth. 

I’ll go back, but we’re done.

Joel wears a path in the fresh grass beneath his feet, letting the spring chill take over when the sun sets, leaving him in darkness. Ellie had kept her word. He’d never heard her stay quiet for so long. The loss had begun to settle in with her riding next to him. 

Joel’s muscles ache from two weeks out on the road. He misses you and Carter. He hasn’t even touched you yet. Will you let him? 

Getting over the wall from the outside proves more difficult than it had the first time. Which is a good thing, but had Joel feeling every one of his 59 years. Embarrassment creeps over his cheeks with each step toward your home. The one he shares with you, but he feels like a guest as he climbs the steps. He doesn’t catch a glimpse of you or Carter or anyone else through the windows. 

The house is silent when he enters, no signs of life except for the faint buzzing of light bulbs. His brow furrows. You wouldn’t have left the lights on if you weren’t home. Then a faint sound comes from upstairs, movement at the very least. He follows it, placing his hand on the closed bedroom door before cracking it open. 

Soft groans come from behind the cracked bathroom door followed by a whispered curse. Maria's voice follows. Joel’s throat drops into his stomach. His boots echo off the wood floor as he crosses the room. “Sweetheart?” he calls, staying on his side of the door. “Is everything alright?”

“Joel? Get in here,” you groan out. 

It sends some reassurance through him to hear you so clearly before he swings the door open. His eyes go wide at the sight of you in the tub, sweat staining your skin as Maria kneels next to you. “Shit, are you?”

“Make yourself useful and hold my hand.” 

He nods, kneeling beside you. Maria stands, grabbing a few instruments from the bathroom sink, she gives Joel a look that lets him know you’re near the end of labor. Your baby will be here in minutes. It sends a rush through him. “I’m sorry, Darlin.”

You grab onto his hand tightly. It’s wet from the bathwater sloshing around you as you fight to get comfortable. It’s a useless pursuit, but it doesn’t keep you from trying. “Can we do the apologizing later? I’m kinda busy at the moment.” 

“Yes,” Joel takes a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. He squares his shoulders next to you, giving an air of assurance you know he doesn’t have. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

“I think you missed most of it.”

“Not that you’ve had much to miss,” Maria says, stern. She pissed at him, which is more than fair given everything. You’d had some time to explain what happened. “We tried to find you. Her labor progressed pretty quick.”

“Speaking of which-” You let out a gasp, face twisting in pain. “I think the baby is crowning.”

“She must be in a hurry,” Joel says. 

“She?” 

“Just a hunch.” Joel smiles, kissing your head.

For the next few minutes, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Your fight never happened because there’s only one thing on your minds, bringing your baby into the world. The world goes silent again, but not in a bad way. A way that makes you feel at peace, Joel’s warm hand in yours. It doesn’t take long until she announces her arrival with a fiery scream once Maria pulls her out of the water. 

You hold her close, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. Joel leans in, his forehead pressed to your temple, arms wrapping around you and your daughter as she pulls air into her lungs. 

“You did great, Sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair as he kisses your cheek, cupping your daughter’s head. “She’s beautiful.”

Your eyes flicker between him and your newborn. It’s the moment you’ve been envisioning for months, the one you thought you’d get with Gabe when Carter was born. A little piece of you mends. Your child soothes against your skin. 

After you’re both cleaned up, Joel helps you into bed, then settles beside you. She sleeps in your arms, tiny fist clenched around one of Joel’s fingers still curled up in your softest bath towel. You brush her cheek softly. 

“I believe we decided on Willa Peace?”

“Did we?” You tilt your head to the side, a grin verging on your lips. “I thought we weren’t hippies.”

Joel shrugs, tracing your shoulders. “I had a lot of time to think about it the past couple of weeks.”

“Joel…”

Dirt still traces over his face. He hasn’t had time to clean off since he got back. You catch the faint smell of sweat on his clothes and skin. “I know.”

“I would have done the same thing to save her. You know what I think about cures.” You keep your gaze on your child. It only reminds you what you brought her into. “You lied to her over and over when she needed the truth.”

“I was trying to protect her.”

“I wish you would’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“This only works if we’re open with each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” You bite your lip. “I’m going to need some time with this one.”

Joel nods, arm wrapping around you. “I know.”

You lean into him, enjoying the quietness that surrounds the three of you.

“Willa Peace Miller,” You smile. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah.” Joel hums beside you. “Can’t believe she’s actually here.” 

“And we’re both okay.”

He nods, and neither of you can tear your eyes away from the precious little being in your arms. You hang on every rise and fall of her chest, everything micro movements, the soft flutter of her eyes that never quite open. It all feels so fragile, so sacred. 

You remember similar moments with Carter. When the grief and the world got too loud, you would lay on the floor or bed with him on your chest asleep. The weight of his small body was a tether that kept you from flying away. 

Even in this moment, as your heart inexplicitly expands, you feel that thread of fear winding itself through your body. Another person to love and protect. Another person to keep from the jaws of the world. Another person you can’t bear to lose. 

“You know,” you say, pulling Joel’s attention. “If you were ever gonna pull those baby clothes and blankets out of your drawer, now would be the time.”

His brow furrows and then eases with realization. “How long have you known they were there?”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I washed them the next time you went out on patrol. I wasn’t going to leave those filthy things in your drawer.”

“You were going through my things, I see.”

“Next time don’t try to hide something in your drawer from the person who washes your clothes.” 

Joel laughs, easing out of the bed to fetch the items from the drawer. “Got it, I’ll be sneakier next time.”

“Can you get the onesie with the yellow flowers?” You bite back a smile. He doesn’t know how you often pulled the drawer open and just gazed upon the items. It helped you visualize it all even when the fear threatened to take over. Another child, and here she was. You’d been most drawn to the little yellow flowers. 

Joel laughs, grabbing the onsie and the swaddle with little yellow flowers to match. You’re gentle with her as you work the small article of clothing over her tiny body. It’s a bit baggy, but you can’t complain. It just means she can wear it for longer. She sleeps through all the jostling as if she’s fully absorbed her middle name. 

She’s settled back into your arms when a soft tap echoes on your door. “Mommy?” Carter’s voice comes through muffled. 

“You can come in.”

The door flies open as your son bursts through the door, grin spread wide on his face. Ellie stands behind him, looking like the space might envelope her.

 “Aunt Maria said I have a baby sister.” 

“You want to meet her?” you ask. 

Carter nods eagerly, dashing toward your bed. Joel catches him before he can jump onto the bed beside you and potentially on you. 

“Daddy!” Carter’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t seen Joel in almost two weeks. 

Joel laughs, arms tightening around the boy. “Hey, bud.”

Your eyes meet Ellie’s. Her eyes are red, bags deep underneath. You motion her next to you. She hesitates before sliding onto the bed beside you. She’s timid, keeping to the edge, eyes flicking over you and Willa. 

“You can get closer.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I never got to hug you earlier.” 

She looks down, eyes scanning over your comforter like she’s reliving her homecoming. Once she’s close enough, your arm slips around her shoulders, tugging her close. She nuzzles into your side like a child seeking comfort. “You’re alright?” she asks.

“Yeah… we both are.” You say, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“But I’m still sorry you’re going through this.”

Ellie seems to sink into your further, eyes pinned to Willa. She doesn’t answer you. She doesn’t look at Joel as he sinks next to you with Carter, but you feel her tense when he does. 

“What’s her name?” Ellie asks. 

“Willa,” you reply. 

“Baby Willa.” Carter grins proudly. 

And the five of you sit there together in silence. You try to push it out of your head that it’s the last time you all might be together for a while. Even now, you feel the underlying anger rolling through Ellie’s body. This is a wound that’s been festering. It’s going to take time to heal. 

Eventually, Ellie slips from your side without a word to leave. She’s barely out the door when Joel goes after her. 

“Ellie,” Joel says, catching her on the front porch.

Her head whips around, expression set in stone. “I’m here for them, not you.” She keeps her voice low to not be overheard by nosy neighbors. “They’re my family. Do you understand?” 

Joel’s apology catches in his throat. He’s been apologizing the whole way back from Salt Lake. He knows there’s nothing he can say to rush this process. He made a decision, and these are his consequences. “Yeah… I got it.”

“Good.” 

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else.  

The bed is empty next to you, the sheets cool to the touch. Your eyes blink open. Cool moonlight shines through the window. You glance at the bathroom door. No light shines through the crease. Joel’s name is on your lips, interrupted by his voice. 

“Do you like the butterflies?” 

You turn to your side. Joel sits next to the crib, talking to Willa. She’s awake, moonlight reflecting off her big eyes. She’s content and still. 

“Your big sister liked butterflies. When they come out in the summertime, I feel her around me.”

She stares at Joel, mesmerized by his voice. Your eyes float upward to the mobile Joel made. He hadn’t explained it to you, but you already knew. Sarah had pinned them all throughout their Austin home. You keep one stuck to the window above the kitchen sink. There’s one tucked in his nightstand drawer. 

“I think she sent you to me.” He lets it sit there, contemplating the weight and depth of what he said. “I think she sent you to me, your momma, Ellie, I suppose she’s your big sister too, Carter. All of you.

“Her name was Sarah. She would have loved you.” He chuckles. “She used to ask me for a baby brother or sister. I didn’t know your momma yet… Well, I guess I did, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.”

You stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Joel’s eyes lock on yours. He smiles, shooting you a wink. He looks younger under the moonlight, more at ease. The creases in his skin are less apparent. 

“Your momma, she’s quite a bit younger than me.” The smile stays pinned to his face. “It’s not so creepy now- least that’s what she tells me- but it would’ve been then, and I was a decent fella back before the world went to shit. Besides, between you and me.” He leans closer to Willa’s ear, but his eyes are still on you. “Your momma had a pretty big crush on me back then.”

You groan, heat flushing your cheeks. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it is. You chuck his pillow at him. Joel catches it, laughing. It’s the kind that sits deep in one’s chest and bubbles up with the purest kind of joy. You can’t help but smile. 

He slowly stands, grunting as he does. You hear the familiar pop of his joints. He leans into the crib. You notice Willa’s eyes have fallen shut. “I love you, my little wildflower.” He kisses her cheek before falling back into bed next to you. 

His arm wraps around your waist. Pulling you close, he steals a kiss on your forehead. “I’m getting too old to sit on the floor like that.”

“You’re getting too old to have a newborn, yet here we are.” Your fingers run through his hair. 

“Still can’t believe she’s here… you’re both healthy.”

“Neither can I.” You glance back at the crib. She’s just a few days old and already, you can’t imagine life without her. 

Tears well at the corner of your eyes. Your heart has grown so much. You thought you couldn’t open it to more people, yet here you are. The you of 4 years ago would be too terrified of losing this life to give it a chance, the price of pain too high. Yet here you are, embracing it, taking that risk, because this is living, and the love and belonging far outweigh the potential for pain even as it grows with every passing day. You fell into the trap,and it’s a crowded one, but it’s a happy one. 

Joel kisses your cheek. “You should get some sleep before she wakes up hungry.” 

“Mmm,” you hum as his hands move soothingly over your back. “Someone not named Willa woke me up.”

Joel chuckles. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

But even now you feel your eyelids getting heavier. 

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About?”

You let your eyes fall shut as Joel massages out a knot in your back. You lean into it. “About Sarah sending us to you.”

“I did.” He kisses your forehead. 

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

[galaxyedging]

I set myself a task to get back into writing. I wrote a list of Pedro Boys and I had to jot down an idea about each.

Here are Eddie, Pero, Dave and Reed.

Unsurprisingly, they are all smutty.

@withhertopdown ,this is what I was talking about.

Eddie

Baby vamps are much like baby humans. They need to be cared for until they can stand on their own two feet. They need protection from the world to survive their early days. They also need to feed what seems like all the damn time. 

Babies weren't your thing when you were alive and Baby Vamps aren't your thing in your afterlife. Eddie is the exception. You found him chasing rats in an alley a few nights. Half starved and near rabid. When he saw you he tried to hide. He was ashamed, both of his hunger and how he was trying to satisfy it. 

“I'm sorry.” he mumbled as you coaxed him out. 

He crawled out all brown doe eyes and broad shoulders. Taking pity on him, you bit open your wrist and let him feed. The noises out of him lit up your spine like a trail of gasoline. He moaned and whined while he took his fill. The noises crescendoed in a drawn out groan and another mumbled apology against your skin. Only when he stepped back did you see the wet patch on his crotch.

That's when you decided that maybe one pretty, pathetic, whimpering Baby Vamp to pass on your experience too may not be so bad after all.

Pero

The man had grumbled in many languages until you had appeared from behind the screen. The guards had ordered him to wait there to be cleaned up. 

“I'm sorry, Miss, I didn't think anyone was here.” He said earnestly. His English was pleasantly accented. 

“I'm here to bathe you and cut your hair.” You informed him as a matter of fact. 

“B-bathe me?” He stumbled over his words.

“Yes. Please undress and get into the tub. I will turn my back but you have nothing I haven't seen before.

Eventually Pero relaxed into your touch as you washed his broad shoulders. When he stepped out, you stood before him ready with a towel. When he was dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and you guided him to sit. He hummed pleasantly as your fingers ran through his hair to chop away at it. When the unruly mop was down to a manageable length, you started on his beard. Your fingers stroke his surprisingly soft skin as some of it became exposed, like the patches on his strong jawline. 

“There, just your body hair to do.” You kept your composure while he spluttered. “I do not have much chest hair. 

The man nearly choked when you gestured to his towel covered area. 

“It is their tradition here. You must take care of your body.”

Reluctantly, he dropped his towel. His thick cock sprung free, he must have been enjoying your attention. Dropping to you knees, you gently trimmer around the base of his erect member. Stopping every so often to blow away loose hair. The man hissed every time you did. His twitched and leaked torturously close to your face.

That night, when you came on your fingers, your head filled with all the images you had treated yourself to, you wondered if the man would even find out that you were only there to leave him towels and a razor.

Dave

“I can wait all night.” Dave assures you as he shifts his hips, pressing the fat head of his cock against the spot that makes you mewl for him.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his tanned, sweat soaked chest. "That's such a pretty sound but not the one I want to hear.”

His thick fingers walk from your hip where he had been holding you down moments ago as he split you roughly on his cock, across your stomach to the chain laying just above. A swift tug has the nipple clamps pinching you just right. As you arch up off the bed, Dave resumes his pounding. Dave is an expert interrogator, his methods in the bedroom may be different but they still yield results.

“I love you.” You finally confess as the rapid pummelling of your g-spot becomes too much. You clamp down on him as he allows himself to fill you, biting his lip to withhold a similar confession.

“That wasn't hard now, was it?” He says practically against your lips as he seizes the opportunity between your steading breaths to own your mouth with his own.

Reed

If you said that you hadn't mused about the sexual possibilities of Reed's powers before you met him, your pants would burst into flames. Handsome. Smart. A confident leader. Reed has a lot of attractive qualities. He also had a wife, until he didn't, and you wasted no time in declaring your interest in him.

That was two months ago.

Now, here you were, exploring some of the possibilities of his powers. Reed was shy to use them at first. He'd never used them in the bedroom before. His sex life with Sue was far from adventurous. Now, here he was, arms wrapped around the exposed ceiling beams of your rented cabin. Running back down to hold you in place as the two of you swung back and forth in the open-plan living room. Each rock shifting his cock to where you needed him most. The gentle swaying had you riding him in the most tantalising way. Giving him enough pleasure to slowly build an orgasm. Your pussy still ridiculously wet from where he had stretched his tongue to lick you from hole to clit at the same time until you'd come sobbing his name.

Tags:@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn

[ms-wwe]

SNEEK PEAK OF CHAPTER 2 DAMIAN PRIEST X OC(RIGHTEOUS DESIRES: LOVE AND REDEMPTION IN THE RING)

“Let’s go ahead inside” I say, stepping to the side to allow Cassie to go up the stairs, I follow behind her anxiously. She opens the old screen door and holds it open behind her allowing me to follow. “You have a lovely home” She says as she looks around the small living room that is still covered in old photographs of mine and my fathers childhoods. I smile at her compliment, knowing my grandfather would have cracked some joke about his old southern décor. “Thank you , this is actually my grandfather’s old home. I just lay claim to it when I visit” I tell her awkwardly as I try and curb my nerves. “Please, sit wherever you like. We can sit here in the living room, or the kitchen if you’d prefer to be at a table” I tell her as I try to mask the anxiety trimmers I feel beginning to take over my entire body. Cassie adjusted the items in her arms and replied in her cheery tone. “Let’s go to the kitchen, that way I can take notes easier” I nod in response and motion for her to follow me to the kitchen. We walk through the small living room and through the narrow doorway that leads to the kitchen. It still has the scent of morning coffee dancing in the air, and the sunlight is beaming into the space even more than it had just an hour earlier. Tucked in the corner of the kitchen is a small solid wood table with four matching chairs around it. Just like the coffee pot, the table had seen better days. It was an antique when my grandmother bought it when she was still alive, and it had survived two rough and tough boys, and a hell raising little girl. Cassie made her way over to the table and started sitting her things down as she pulled out the end chair. “Can I get you a drink or anything?” I ask her as I pour myself another cup of coffee. “Coffee would be wonderful” She says as she opens her laptop. I walk over to the cabinet by the fridge once more, pulling out a random mug from the top shelf. “Do you take cream or sugar?” I ask her as I close the cabinet. “Just black is perfect” She tells me as she opens her note book. I grabbed the coffee pot once more and pour her cup, this is when I notice just how bad my trimmers were currently, and I instantly felt intense embarrassment. Seeing my obvious unease made me feel weak, it made me feel like I couldn’t do this after all, like maybe this was all a huge mistake. “So I have to ask” She trails off as I make my way over to the table clutching our mugs. “Is Riot your actual name?” She questions hesitantly. I giggle at the comment, I can’t even count how many times I’ve been asked this same question. “Yes, Riot is actual name.” I tell her as I sit the mug next to her note book. “I had to ask, I know typically wrestlers use stage names, and I couldn’t find much information on yours specifically when I googled it” She admits as she takes a sip of her drink. I stretch my arms out across the table as I lean back in my chair, trying desperately to relax my body and mind as I reply. “It’s because Riot is my name. Riot Elizabeth Hardy if you want the full thing” I say as I focus in on the heat radiating of the mug in my hands. Cassie jots down a note in her book, I can faintly see her writing my name inside of it. We sit in awkward silence for a moment, attempting to make small talk about her drive here and how she struggled to find the road that lead her here, how the three houses threw her off and that she was worried she was driving up to the wrong one. I tried to joke with her and make some comment about there was no wrong house here, but as suspected, it fell flat. “Now, before we begin this I just want to go over a few things” She tells me as she pulls a small voice recorder from her blazer pocket. I tensed up in my seat immediately, this was it, the interview was starting, and nothing would ever be the same in my life again after it.

[the-vegetarian-artist]

Asking you about your ska troll concept! They look so cool and I would love to learn more about them

@shadow-ray4 thank you for asking, genuinely was positive that no one would ask 😅😣 but I am HAPPY to share! To start here are the full refs I've done so far and explain as much of the concept as I've developed in my brain lmaooo (ALL MAJOR DEETS undercut cause its gonna be LONG)

@goldendaydna also helped with this and lowkey a concept we are semi working out since her sona Golden Tempo is an Urbano Troll (a recently named concept lol)

Ska Trolls are Big, Bright, and BOLD. Together, these elements create an energetic, highly danceable, highly vibe-able troll genre. They also explode into confetti and confections when excited or surprised. Dont worry they pop back up as if nothing even happened leaving a pile of candy and crepe paper on the ground. (Ska trolls are super popular with the kids.) They practically live for the music, known for dancing for several days straight with hardly a rhyme or reason to stop.

*Like even the smallest of surprises just make em POP! (Bonus Branch doodle cause why not??)

Adara, my sona, is a 4th Generation Ska Troll (her father being a 3rd Gen while her mama is a punk rock troll) so TECHNICALLY shes Ska-punk, but she still has the appearance of your standard Ska Troll so it's more a music specific.

Her great great grandparents being a reggae leaning funk troll and a rocksteady leaning funk troll who formed The Underground after being seemingly left behind along with other alt/subgenres of the main 6 kingdoms when they split. A place for alternative trolls like herself and her friends could live and PARTY HARD without micro judgments against their music. It's a haven for other trolls who feel they dont quite fit a specific genre or even one at all, but also HELLA secluded from the rest of the Trolls so they look different and SOUND different. (Cave acoustics and all) The surface likely gets trimmers and even earthquakes from their raging parties. (I'm still fleshing this out but I have this piece of "concept art")

*Its literally a bioluminescent shroom town. Like glowing mushroom homes, food, ect- glow worms on the cave ceiling like stars in a night sky. All the various alternative genre of trolls have like a glowy eye thing that allows them to just see naturally in the dark too-

*these were some posters I took heavy color influence from for Adara's pallet (I know they arent all ska, but punk, reggae, and rocksteady aesthetics were an addition)

Obviously I took most inspo from pinatas, party/confetti poppers, and the sorts mainly because the funk trolls poop...well. baked goods and I wanted to play off that but lean into the crazy evolution the trolls have canonically in the universe that foam at the mouth for 👀 🤲 But I wanted to make sure her colors and patterns gave off not just Funk influence, but also micro subculture influences that are within The Underground. (This including but not not limited to, how closely Ska Trolls were to the Urbano Trolls communities within The Underground)

*Exchanged tassels and stringy fur textures for more paper textures. Like literally walking, talking, breathing pinatas fr

*Queen Essence I love yuuuu

They are bigger than the average Funk troll and have very similar features to them, but texture and color wise are very different. They much more vibrant and staturated. Giving a mix of felt and crepe paper. They have tails as sortve as an evolutionary trait but also it gives maximum party mode as it can hold objects and act as an extra hand. Their ears are also longer and slimmer, making it harder for them to lift or perk up so they stay droopy unlike their funk counterparts. They are all naturals at brass instruments (mainly trumpet) and ALWAYS have a hop in their step.

*edit if the pics keep messing up... imma have to just remake the post 😭

[notjustjavierpena]

funny headcanons for the Penas? please!

Ask and you shall receive:

Javier threatens the kids with kissing their mom in front of them if he wants to make them follow orders and behave. And he says ‘And I’ll do it again!” whilst Lucas and Inés yell out in disgust.

Javier and Inés always get too invested in games. Lucas and Wife sit back and watch with raised brows, and Inés cheats. A lot. Javier lets her know he is goddamn law enforcement. This goes way into her adulthood too.

Inés once got into the sugar bowl in the kitchen, and Wife found her eating from it with a spoon. It had indeed been suspicious that she had stopped her tantrum so instantly.

Javier once decided that he could make a homemade slip ‘n slide in the garden (after Wife told him no). It was a lot of garbage bags and dish soap, and ended in him just buying one like she had told him to.

Wife makes funny voices for the babies when they have yet to learn how to talk. She’ll reply for them in a really scratchy voice that mostly reminds anyone of a pirate's parrot. Even if she’s alone.

Inés once cut her hair with Javier’s hair trimmer. She wore a lot of different hats until it had grown out enough to be styled.

Lucas once heard his mother call her period ‘Shark Week’ and he was terrified of land-crawling sharks until she realized why.

Wife enthusiastically screams the loudest of all the parents at Lucas’ sports events. Javier gets a little embarrassed, and sometimes kisses her to ground her a little. This doesn’t help though.

Inés has brought in various kinds of animals with the intention of keeping them. She has also stolen an egg from the kitchen with the intention of hatching it under her bed.

Javier once picked up Wife after drinks with her coworkers, and she confessed that she had told them he was a secret agent for the government because she had been too drunk to describe his time in Colombia.

Javier imitates Wife in front of the kids and Wife lowers her voice to a gruff tone to do it right back.

Inés once packed a little bag because she wasn’t allowed something and decided she was going to run away. Wife walked around 30 feet behind her on the pavement, but she only made it down to the bus stop before getting scared and gave in to the invitation of coming back to the house and have a cookie.

Lucas likes twirling his mother’s hair around his fingers as a way of stimming to relax. One time after she had curled her hair for a party, Lucas carefully asked if it was his doing.

[nocturnaltheory]

“Solving the following riddle will reveal the awful secret behind the universe, assuming you do not go utterly mad in the attempt.

Let’s say you have an axe. Just a cheap one, from Home Depot. On one bitter winter day, you use said axe to behead a man. Don’t worry, the man was already dead. Or maybe you should worry, because you’re the one who shot him.

He had been a big, twitchy guy with veiny skin stretched over swollen biceps, a tattoo of a swastika on his tongue. Teeth filed into razor-sharp fangs-you know the type. And you’re chopping off his head because, even with eight bullet holes in him, you’re pretty sure he’s about to spring back to his feet and eat the look of terror right off your face.

On the follow-through of the last swing, though, the handle of the axe snaps in a spray of splinters. You now have a broken axe. So, after a long night of looking for a place to dump the man and his head, you take a trip into town with your axe. You go to the hardware store, explaining away the dark reddish stains on the broken handle as barbecue sauce. You walk out with a brand-new handle for your axe.

The repaired axe sits undisturbed in your house until the next spring when, on one rainy morning, you find in your kitchen a creature that appears to be a foot-long slug with a bulging egg sac on its tail. Its jaws bite one of your forks in half with what seems like very little effort. You grab your trusty axe and chop the thing into several pieces. On the last blow, however, the axe strikes a metal leg of the overturned kitchen table and chips out a notch right in the middle of the blade.

Of course, a chipped head means yet another trip to the hardware store. They sell you a brand-new head for your axe. As soon as you get home, you meet the reanimated body of the guy you beheaded earlier. He’s also got a new head, stitched on with what looks like plastic weed-trimmer line, and it’s wearing that unique expression of “you’re the man who killed me last winter” resentment that one so rarely encounters in everyday life.

You brandish your axe. The guy takes a long look at the weapon with his squishy, rotting eyes and in a gargly voice he screams, “That’s the axe that slayed me!”

Is he right?”

- David Wong (John Dies at the End)

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈

chapter II of and her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest

Pairing: Teenage!Arlecchino x gn!Teenage!Reader

Genres: politics & law, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood, toxic familial relationship, vivienne becomes pretty bad pretty fast -- manipulation tactics, weaponizing trauma & coping mechanisms; discussions of crime, panic attack

1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | epilogue

~~~

The afternoon light poured brightly over the garden where a young woman sat reading behind a large oak tree. The book in her hands was stolen from Director Vivienne’s library – a place none of the children were allowed since the books were deemed too complicated to share, at least by the director’s standards. Garden tools lay well-organized in front of the bushes she was supposed to trim, but instead, her attention was on A Compendious History of Fontainian and Snezhnayan Relations. 

“Marie! Marie!” the director called into the back courtyard.

The young woman quickly tucked the book into the bag for the tools and slid on her usual black gloves before shaking her head quickly and grabbing a pair of hedge trimmers. She looked just dirtied enough to pretend she was doing her task.

“What is it, Mlle. Vivienne?” she yelled back.

“Hurry inside, please! We have to organize for a new resident!”

She huffed before throwing down the trimmers and grabbing the tool bag. Her worn boots pounded against the cobblestone as she ran inside.

—

The drone of the black car silenced as the ignition was turned off. The chauffeur came and opened the bailiff’s door which you slid out of afterward. He grabbed your bag from the back before bringing it to you and tipped the edge of his hat before retreating to the car. The bailiff said nothing as she walked up the stairs next to you to the front door of the orphanage. Grabbing the golden door knocker, you struck it against the plate.

A woman in an elegant yet simple greyscale dress answered the door, golden brown hair mixed with silver falling long over her shoulders.

"Hello, Amélie!" she welcomed, shaking the bailiff's hand with both of hers.

"Hello, Vivienne." the white-haired woman responded curtly.

The director's eyes drifted over to you as she spoke, "I take it you are __?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Wonderful," she said smiling. "Please, follow me."

You nodded goodbye to Amélie as you entered the older building. The white crown moulding in the foyer complemented the pale blue walls well but seemed like such a contrast to the owner's taste. She led you further down the hall toward an occupied lounge space. A young woman sat with tea dressed in a red button-up with black pants, gloves, and boots. Her white hair was blended with shades of dark grey and a strand of bright red. Black and maroon eyes gazed at you with inquisition and tiredness.

"Marie, please welcome __." the director stated.

She put down her tea on the small table next to the armchair she occupied before rising to step forward and hold out her hand. You reached out and took her hand, briefly shaking it and feeling the copious heat of her hand through the glove. 

"Hello, __." she spoke evenly, her voice strong and smooth.

"Lovely to meet you." you replied after a beat of momentary surprise. Something about the person in front of you seemed familiar, yet you couldn’t place where the feeling came from.

The director set a hand on Marie's shoulder as you brought your hand back to your side. "I have chosen our oldest here to guide and aid you for your first month. I do hope you two will get along. Dinner will be at six-thirty this evening, please show Mx. __ around in the meantime."

With that, she dismissed herself.

The lounge was quiet before the young woman spoke up, “Would you like me to take your bag?” 

You shook your head, “No need.” You did not want to hand off your only belongings to someone you just met, even if you sensed a kinship with them.

She looked into your eyes for a moment, as if assessing something you couldn’t perceive. With a light sigh, she moved on, “Well then, would you like to see where you’ll be sleeping?”

—

The bedroom of the orphanage was decorated in a plain yet aquatic theme that would have suited its location if not for the lack of extravagance. The white crown moulding continued into the room, but the walls were a dark teal instead of pale blue. Full beds with white sheets sat on metal bed frames, some had torn or well-kept stuffed animals, while others had blankets or satchels of the same condition. There were three large windows on the northern wall, bringing the shadows of leaves into the room.

Marie entered the room first, guiding you around the beds. A few young children ran around playing tag, but one, in particular, came running up to you, grabbing your hand with an excited smile on her face.

“I’m Lucette! Are you a new kid here?”

She had such a contagious spirit, you couldn’t help but reply, “It’s nice to meet you Lucette! I am new here, my name is __.”

The girl jumped up and down twice before turning toward the figure on your left. “Manon! Why didn’t you tell us?”

Your eyebrow raised slightly at the nickname as the girl left your side to stand in front of Marie. The young white-haired woman picked up the little girl and gestured for you to follow them.

“I didn’t know they would be arriving until only an hour ago,” she replied softly. “If I knew before I would have told you, Luce.”

“That’s still an hour!” the girl huffed, crossing her arms.

Marie placed her down on the floor when she reached a pair of beds. Ruffling her hair, she laughed.

“Stubborn as ever, I see.”

The girl glared playfully at her, “So are you.”

Another light laugh left Marie’s lips, and you felt warm at the sincerity between the two. It seemed that family was something highly valued by your overseer.

“Why don’t you go ask Mlle. Vivienne if you can help with dinner?”

“Okay!”

The girl quickly called for her friends and they all left the room a moment later.

“You can place your bag there.” Marie said, pointing to the bed on the right.

You placed your bag at the foot of the bed and decided to lie down for a moment. The bed was softer than you expected, and you sighed as the bed to your left creaked. Marie sat waiting for you, simply looking out the window.

“What brings you here?” she asked quietly.

You waited a moment before responding, “Unfortunate events.”

She hummed, bringing her gaze the short distance to you. Her striking eyes drew your attention, and you found yourself looking at her as well.

There was something odd stirring in her eyes, an unfamiliar emotion for someone appearing both bold and bitter. It seemed to you like fascination and perplexity, but you could not tell much of the inner workings of her mind. All you knew was that she likely cared deeply for those she loved.

You rose to sit on the side of your bed, your eyes still never leaving hers.

“What brings you here?” you queried.

She huffed and closed her magnetic onyx eyes. “Something far too complicated.”

You left her with no reply and continued to look at her. She opened her eyes once more a moment later, a flicker of recollection dancing behind them.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” you questioned, slight confusion on your face.

“I could ask you the same.” she replied, tilting her head.

A minuscule smile rose on her face, and you felt a peculiar sense of pride.

—

The sound of a knife cutting harshly against a plate was drowned out by chatter to everyone else but Marie as she channeled her frustrations into slicing her dinner. From her seat to the right of the director, she was able to get the best observance of you across from her. The silent companionship was not enough to curve her growing state of vexation after a long week of acting in front of the director though. Having been here for five years, she thought she would be used to the back-and-forth of the woman’s behavior, but if anything she has grown to learn that she just performs for others as well. Perhaps every citizen of Fontaine was made for the stage, whether that be the courtroom, theatre, or everyday society.

“How was your first day here, dear?” Vivienne asked as you placed your glass of water down.

Marie’s eyes remained low as she waited for your response.

“It went very well, Mademoiselle.”, you replied, smiling gently.

“Well, that’s lovely to hear.” she returned, cutting a slice of her steak.

After taking a bite, she continued, “Now, I know you arrived with the bailiff, but I’m afraid I was not fully briefed on why. Would you mind sharing with me?”

You exhaled and leveled eyes with Marie before moving them to the director. Her heart surprisingly jumped at the action, a mix of anticipation and a sentiment she was unfamiliar with.

“I was out at the butcher’s shop buying a steak and bumped into a customer. Blood from the meat leaked out onto my shirt, and when I left the shop I saw someone in pain. Their side was bloody and when I reached them they were unresponsive. Patrolmen came by not much later as I was trying to help them and interpreted me as the murderer. I ran into my older brother while being chased by them, they stunned him and apprehended us both. I faced my judgment day and arrived here.”

The director chuckled at your story, and Marie watched as your eyebrow perched.

“That somewhat reminds me of a certain someone,” she said, placing her chin on the back of her hand and grabbing her glass of water.

No. Not now. Not in the presence of someone new.

Marie knew the panic was growing in her eyes, prompting her to shift them down to her plate and tightly grip her utensils. Only Vivienne could break down her mask, and often only for the sake of her amusement.

“About five years ago, I received a child convicted of three counts of voluntary manslaughter. They were badly traumatized by the incident and treated others very coldly. It was hard to get them to leave the bedroom, much less complete any chores. No little one would spend time with them, and they grew very lonely. With time, though, they eventually grew to be like normal children here. It was a very soothing development.”

With a sharp exhale and scratch of a chair against hardwood, Marie stood up, “Please excuse me.”

This was not the first time Vivienne had done something like this, and it was certainly not going to be the last. 

There was a partial stumble to her walk as she traversed the halls to the bedroom – she needed to be as far away as possible from this area. Her breath was shortening and she felt the chill of danger run fierce through her veins, a shivering sensation rising from her elbows to her fingertips. She ripped off her gloves as she felt her head almost begin spinning when a wave of nausea overcame her.

She thought she was over this. She thought she had stopped reacting so viscerally to her past.

Entering the darkness of the bedroom was like returning to her childhood. The doom inside of her intensified as she crossed only a short distance into a corner of the room. If she just closed her eyes, this living nightmare would dissipate.

—

Your eyes honed in on the smirk covering Vivienne’s face as Marie left the room looking far too frazzled for your liking. The dining room was getting quieter in her abrupt absence, but your appalled stare did not leave the director. You threw your napkin down on your plate before rising from your seat.

“Excuse me, but I must leave as well,” you stated, leaving quickly to catch up with your overseer.

You could hear Vivienne calming and talking to the remaining children as you disappeared down the hall, but you could hardly focus on her.

A pair of torn black gloves lay on the floor of the hall, and you heard heavy rapid breathing and crying not far from where you stood. Following the noise, you finally reached the bedroom.

“Marie?” you called out gently. “Are you in here?”

A sharp breath to your left drew your attention to the corner; there was hardly any moonlight in the room, but you could make out a crouched figure. Flipping on the iron wall lamp above the bed closest to you, a golden light was brought into the area. She did not react.

“Marie?” you beckoned again, sitting on your knees before her.

A clawed hand was immediately swung in your direction, leaving you with a light scratch over your cheekbone that you couldn’t dodge. A hoarse voice yelled desperately, “Leave me be, please! I was only trying to protect myself!”

You felt a wave of empathetic hurt in your chest, leading you to forsake her wish and riskily wrap your arms around her shoulders. Strong arms tried to stubbornly push you away, but you proved solid and constant. Moments later, hands were grasping at your back and tugging you closer. You didn’t know why you felt so heavily for her, but something within you could not find the will to leave her. Your hand came to cup her head into your neck as the other rubbed up and down her back. Time seemed to pass slowly as you sat together, Marie calming down by the minute. When she pulled back from her tight grip on you, you witnessed vulnerability and regret in her eyes – like she felt uncomfortable with someone bearing witness to her emotions. You could tell she was not fond of being defenseless.

She brought her hands to her eyes and wiped them, causing you to pause. You carefully took them in your hands, noticing the natural pitch-black color and sharpened nails. Looking up into the raw gaze of her eyes, lost memories from years ago came flooding back. With a small wistful smile, she squeezed your hands as a tear slid down your cheek to mingle with the growing streak of blood.

“I remember you, __.”

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #385

Brain Curds are barely-edited fiction, poetry, or just about anything else - drafted in a day or less. I want to ride my bicycle.

Part 44 of an experiment in progress. Refer to case logs.

“So what?” I asked. “If I go home you’re gonna stop talking to me?”

“Anything could happen to someone sleeping on the streets,” Dad replied, posturing like he was making a threat to someone else’s life. “You could keep me safe indoors, if you’re not a fucking pussy.”

“If I sneak you in, there will be consequences…”

“Yeah, you’ll grow a spine and Clive will have to learn to live with me. How awful.”

“It doesn’t work like that! You know it doesn’t fucking work like that!”

“Then I guess you’re not seeing me again.” He walked away. “Bye-bye. Have a nice life, Trevor.”

He was… he was really walking away. Was this it? Was this really it? Was it over? I felt almost relieved to lose him. What was the matter with me? Other than…

“Dad.” I gritted my teeth. “I still have one more thing I need to say to you…”

“Yeah, what?” He frowned.

“You…” I shook. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say the words, I could only dance around the empty space they were meant to be written in. This moment came sooner than I was prepared for. “When you… that Halloween…”

The world itself shook as he ran at me, screaming. “THAT HALLOWEEN? THIS WAS ALWAYS ABOUT THAT STUPID HALLOWEEN?!?”

“No, I -”

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU RUINED ME!”

I backed away. “I didn’t -”

“YOU RUINED MY LIFE ALL BECAUSE I WOULDN’T LET YOU WEAR A FUCKING DRESS TO SCHOOL, HUH?”

Everyone in town must have heard him screaming. Oh god. I had to get away. I started running.

“AND I BET CLIVE LOVES TO BE SO PROGRESSIVE AND LET YOU BE A SISSY IN HIS FUCKING HOUSE!”

How was he keeping up with me?

“YOU SENT ME OUT TO SLEEP IN THE COLD! YOU FUCKING PRICK!”

I arrived home faster than I thought I could run, and he was close behind, still screaming at the top of his lungs. I’d never been so terrified. I fell back onto the front steps of the house as he stomped in my direction, pacing back and forth, brushing back the hair of his balding head with his sweaty palms.

He growled. “You know what I think of this? You know what I think of all of this? I have no fucking son, okay? I have no fucking son!” He took my bicycle in both hands and held it off the ground. “So I guess this doesn’t belong to anyone!” He threw it into the street and stomped on it as hard as he could before eventually losing balance and stumbling back.

I looked at him, my jaw agape, my nose bleeding, my stomach aching. He spit in my direction and stomped away as the culmination of billions of eventualities squeezed into my skull. I held my head and moaned in pain as I stumbled inside. Tears ran down my face as I burst into the bathroom and fumbled around for the beard trimmer.

I hacked away at my face, trying to claw my way out of my own mouth. The beard was gone, mostly, but the pain was not. My shaking hands grabbed for the ibuprofen bottle and unscrewed the cap. The pills spilled onto the counter.

“Where is it?” I asked myself, panicking, searching through the pile. There it was: hidden under a pile of orange was a little glint of turquoise. The last drug available to me I hadn’t tried yet: estradiol.

I choked it down and forced myself to look into the mirror. No. No, no, I couldn’t see her anymore. It was too late… No, it couldn’t be too late, I followed her instructions, there must have been something I was forgetting.

I screamed as my toe sent a jolt of pain up my leg and through my spine. “I can’t!” I yelled at myself. “I can’t do this!” I collapsed to the floor and laid my head on the fluffy bath mat. It quickly became bloody and wet enough to drown in. Appropriate - after losing everything, the last thing to lose would be my life. I might as well speed it up.

I pulled myself up by the towel rack and felt my way into the kitchen. I took a knife from the drawer and closed my eyes before slicing into my wrists. The cold floor hit me square in the jaw before I heard that voice again… Celeste…

“Gotcha!”

Penned 2025.04.04

Please reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed, and leave a reply even if you didn’t! See you again soon!

[verishere]

Chapter Two

Previous Next Masterpost

There is no context post that I need to link here, I think. If you happened to read that post on my worldbuilding sideblog about how transgender people came to be in my worldbuilding, ignore it entirely: almost all of it is inaccurate, now. What is still accurate is described again here.

This has had no proofreading from anyone but me at all because my brother- the only person who proofreads my chapters- is unaware that I am trans and for multiple reasons I am not going to send this to him. So it's probably filled with errors. I hope it's still readable, I did read it over for that at least, but if it isn't at any point please tell me where.

EDIT: FUCK FORGOT SOME CONTEXT okay so people in this world reach adulthood at like 50. Liam is roughly 12 or so here, but because of the scale being weird that puts him at around 7 years old in human years. He is officially "too big to carry" age, which Luonim usually enforces but at this moment does not give on single fuck about and proves he is not in fact too big to carry. Liam forgets to point this out.

Luonim really had little idea what was going through little Leigha's head. Her granddaughter was currently wearing only a her father's tunic and slip-on shoes from when he was slightly smaller than she was, making them just barely wearable. She was clearly extremely uncomfortable in them, but she wasn't taking them off. She was trying to reach the shelf above her that had the hair trimmers on them, but she was only tall enough to reach Luonim's waist, and those clippers were slightly above her eye line. Instead of bringing one of the nearby chairs over- they were in Leigha's parent's room, after all, so even aside from the several chairs in the room there were plenty of stable objects available- or going to fetch someone to ask for whatever it was she needed them for, she just kept jumping off the floor over and over again as if hoping that next time she jumped, it would be high enough. She hadn't even noticed Luonim in the doorframe, she was so focused on her task.

Luonim walked over behind her and kneeled down to eye level. Leigha still didn't notice she was there, she just kept jumping over and over again, though Luonim could hear that she was whispering now. "Why am I small" and "why did daddy put it so high" and just before Luonim patted her shoulder, a very distinct "fuck". Luonim decided given the extreme amount of anger, frustration, fear, and a small amount self loathing, that was telepathically oozing from her granddaughter's soul, that right now was not the time to educate the little princess on proper language.

She finally put her hand on Leigha's shoulder, who jumped almost out of the too small shoes she was wearing. She turned around and flew back so hard her head hit the dresser, which brought tears to her eyes. Luonim wrapped her arms around her shoulders, bringing her close, putting her head on her shoulder. Leigha was actually sobbing, now, far more than was warranted for how hard her head hit the dresser. Luonim rubbed her hand up and down her back, whispering what comforts she could. She didn't know what was wrong, all she knew was her youngest baby was having a very bad day, so she would be there for her. When Leigha got better control of herself, she'd ask what happened.

She knelt there with Leigha for around three minutes, all the while wishing someone else was here. Every member of their family was out in the kingdom or in council. Even teenage Axel was apprenticing with the stoneworkers. Whatever this was, she was Leigha's grandmother, and she would help, but it would be much nicer if Leigha needed to know she was not alone if there could be more people than just her. She genuinely considered for a second sending a message over the Mark, but that would bother anyone who had the Mark over a family matter, and she can deal with it herself for now.

Eventually, Leigha stopped sobbing quite so much. She was still sniffling, and her breathing came in heavy rasps, but it seemed she might be able to articulate herself. Luonim thought to start with the clippers, instead of asking. She stood up, carrying Leigha up with her, grabbed the clippers, and went to the door. Immediately Leigha tightened her grip around her shoulders, and the toes of her stolen shoes dug into her hip. Luonim paused, and waited for Leigha to explain why she had to be in this room. Leigha didn't say anything for a moment, and just before Luonim prompted her, Leigha reached up to wipe her face. Luonim then finally Leigha was forcibly slowing down her sniffling and making her breathing quieter. Her breathing was clearly forced instead of loud, and Luonim's heart broke for the second time that day. She was afraid to be crying or possibly vulnerable where people could see her, not even the servants in the palace who were almost family to them at this point.

Would she have let me see her like this, if I hadn't snuck up on her? Has this happened before but she didn't tell us?

She put that thought away for now. It wasn't important yet. She shut the door, instead, and walked over to the bed. She put Leigha down on the edge and then sat down next to her. Turning, she got the first good look at Leigha she'd had since she started crying. Her cheeks weren't wet anymore, but they were still red, and her face was scrunched up like she was trying not to cry again. Her hands were clutching the sheets and her knees were pulled as tight as she could, digging her feet into the side of the bed.

Luonim draped an arm around her second princess' shoulders, leaned in almost till her head was on Leigha's shoulder, and whispered, "No one here would mock you for crying, you know."

Leigha looked away quickly, blinking back more tears. Luonim waited for any kind of response, even nonverbal, but it didn't seem she was going to get one.

"No one; not the servants, not the lords, and especially not your family. None of us would say anything bad to you."

Leigha still didn't move. Her breathing was disturbingly regular, as if she was counting them. Her telepathy was completely locked down, which she had idly noticed happened when she'd set her down on the bed but hadn't put thought to.

She's hiding from her own grandmother when she's down. Luonim didn't know why, and didn't know what to do with it. She needed to know that she wasn't alone, but if she hid herself then she would be alone.

Still, that thought was better than nothing. She needed to know that she wasn't alone. "Every single member of our family has cries, you know."

Leigha's face snapped back around, her mouth open. She just stared at her for a moment, utterly speechless.

"We don't like crying with other people either, but sometimes we need other people. Sometimes talking about it is the best we can do. We didn't like to show you when we cried, because we didn't want you to worry about us. I see that maybe we should have, though." She was still leaned over, even though it hurt her back somewhat to stay like this for long. Just one of the woes of the world, now.

Leigha kept spluttering for a moment, mouth moving silently like she couldn't get the words out. Eventually she found her voice. "What could you have to cry about?" She whispered, but the tone of voice was one you would use to shout.

Luonim laughed, soft and bitter, inwardly sad to see they've raised Leigha and she didn't see this. Keeping her from being worried about them was one thing, but that she didn't know they could ever be sad or hurt was just lying to her. Not intentionally, or at least not always, but it was still lying, and it's hurt her.

"What don't we? My father is a star, Leigha. You have never met your great grandfather. "

Leigha stiffened even more, which Luonim didn't think was possible. It was clear she'd forgotten that. That she could forget he was dead was another reason to cry.

"We cried for your parents, before Freya came with the Mark, when we thought they would be mortal and die. We cry still for the mortals who are going to die, since the Mark can't spread to everyone. We cry that the sky has stars almost beyond count, and that the moon is bright. We cry especially because you're sibling, you're parents, and you, my little princess, don't have wings."

For that whole speech, Leigha seemed to be unwinding a bit, and she could feel a little of her emotions again. Not fully, but she could sense that the anger and frustration from earlier was gone, or at least inactive. The only thing emanating from her now was sadness.

Until the end of the speech, that is. When she called her "princess," Leigha stiffened again, and Luonim sensed a single shoot of self loathing and slight anger, and then her soul was closed.

Oh.

Luonim was the first child born, but she also happened to be the first... they really needed a word for that concept. The Nuthri had predicted once they saw what was wrong with Luonim's soul- or rather what her soul was rightfully rejecting- that she would not be the only one, though they had thought it would be rather rare. She remembered them laughing about it, later, that the first child happened to also be the first child who was... Like that. She would create a word for it later. It would certainly be needed eventually, as more people who were Like That popped up.

She had been born with the body of a boy, and her soul had rejected it. The Nuthri had created a spell to fix that after a person was born, and later said that anyone could do it now, it would just be harder to do it without the stones.

Not to jump to conclusions, but it did explain everything that had happened today. Leigha was dressing up with her fathers old clothes, and reaching for the hair clippers. Luonim had always felt angry both at the people around her and at herself when certain words were used. It wasn't with every word- she hadn't felt it at being called "he" but she had when she was called her parent's son. She won't presume yet, but now she has an idea, she knows what to ask about. She also wouldn't verbally use any more gendered terms like that, until she was sure.

Leigha was still stiffened up a bit, but not quite so much anymore. They had both let the silence hang for a moment after she'd finished talking, and only now had Luonim realized it, lost in her thoughts as she was.

"Now, can you tell me why you were sad?" She didn't want to use the word crying. Leigha was scared to let people see her cry, even her family, so she just stuck with emotions instead and hoped it would be easier.

Leigha slowly unwound, and finally leaned a little into the touch. She nodded.

It still took her a minute to finally get the words out, during which she scooted over so the whole right side of her body was pressed up against the left side of Luonim's, and leaned her head against her. Luonim almost sighed with relief to not be leaning over so far anymore. It was easier, as one of the Mark, but without the light of the True Sun bones don't heal as they weaken anymore, and movements like that still hurt.

Finally, Leigha opened up.

"I wanted to cut my hair like how daddy has it."

Well, this is a strong start to confirm her suspicion. Leigha's hair was currently almost down to her hips, while Dowan's was down to his shoulder blades. Most of the people in Blonicku started mirroring this look, as they seemed to mirror all the royals, making hair length a gendered thing in the people of Blonicku's minds. She thought it was insane, honestly- it was just hair, everyone has it- but that's what's happened in Blonicku, so she had to live with it.

It didn't really surprise her that it seems to affect Leigha too. Leigha was growing up in Blonicku's culture, not in the Blessed Years, and it was noticeable sometimes. She used the prefixes instead of suffixes- aka the wrong way, but she was aware she was now in the minority on that point-, she almost never went barefoot outside on the roads, and her voice even was different. She didn't know how to describe it, but the voices of everyone born and raised in Blonicku, as well as some who had lived in Blonicku for almost it's entire history, like Vlorindul and Nrolin- had a weird lilt to it. It was always the same lilt, too, so it wasn't just a voice thing, it was how everyone talked.

That the idea of gendered hair had spread to her too made sense. Her Numorn family wore their's following that idea too, except for Axel but Axel was not gendered, though the rest of their family did it out of preference rather than acceptance of the cultural norms, which is in fact what caused the cultural norm-

Wait.

She is talking- thinking? Whatver- like Leigha wants to cut her hair because she's accepted that norm and she is Like That. She needed to remember, just because all the signs so far today made it seem that way, doesn't mean Leigha is Like That. She might just like her hair shorter, or she might be aware of the cultural norm, also thinks it's dumb, and wants to go against it. As she said before, she had to be sure, not just presume.

"Did you want it exactly like daddy has it, or a little longer?"

Leigha shuttered when she said "longer" which was definitely another point for the Like That column she was only just now aware she was making in her head. So far there was not a single point for not Like That. Nuthri damn it, she needed to make a word for being Like That. This is getting annoying.

Leigha shook her head, and croaked out the single word "same." So Luonim took her to the bathroom, held her head over a large waste bucket, and trimmed it exactly as close as she could get to her son's hair without him there for reference. Afterwards, they went over to the mirror and, Leigha shaking, while emanating pure anxiety, Luonim picked her up to show her her new hair.

It was the first time that day Luonim had seen Leigha smile.

She kept smiling, though she was still quiet, as Luonim walked her all the way back to her room. Her soul was pouring out with glee, as a child's should be, and there was not a single other emotion had she felt from her grandchild since she'd seen the mirror.

Once at Leigha's door, she waited for a moment for Leigha to sit down, before knocking herself. She had hated as a child when her family opened a door before knocking. It had caused her to invent door locks as a teen. They all knew now to knock, the whole family, no matter who was on the other side.

"Come in!" Her voice was utterly delighted, and when she opened the door she saw that Leigha was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing the full length mirror she has next to her dresser. She was kicking her legs, hands on the edge of her bed, grinning at her reflection.

Luonim walked over to her, knelt down, and removed her right foot's shoe.

Leigha shouted wordlessly.

Luonim laughed and said "If you want to wear shoes like this, we will get some for you that fit. These are too small. So is that tunic, but it's not as bad, if you want you can keep wearing it for now. These shoes are small enough to hurt you. He wore these clothes when he was three years younger than you are now, you know."

Leigha grumbled for a second but let her continue, and just kept staring at her mirror.

Luonim sat down on the bed next to her, and finally decided to broach the subject directly. "Do you remember, when I told you the story of how my body was wrong, but the Nuthri changed it?"

Leigha straightened up again and turned her head to her, full of horror.

That was entirely not the reaction she was expecting. Even if Leigha was not Like That, horror is the wrong face. Her soul was still ungaurded, and right now there was not a part of it still given to the glee from before. She was emanating pure fear, like she hadn't felt from anyone since coming to Blonicku.

"That... the Nuthri had to do that themselves?" Leigha asked with a shaky voice, eyes still wide with honest terror. She sounded like all her hopes had just been dashed with one single sentence.

Luonim didn't laugh, even though she desperately wanted to. She was nigh entirely certain now that Leigha was Like That, but she still wouldn't say it directly yet. "No, sweetie, no. They were just the best at doing it, and they were the only people who could do it the first time. After that, anyone can do it, it will just take longer and be harder, apparently."

Leigha sagged, the fear slowly dissipating from her soul to be replaced by relief and confusion.

She didn't know where the confusion came from yet, but she would wait a minute before prompting.

Leigha looked to the floor for a bit, clearly thinking, and from her soul Luonim felt rising courage and anxiety. Then she looked up at her face in the mirror, and from her soul Luonim felt resolve. Leigha turned to her and said "I thought that just... happened."

Luonim wasn't entirely certain where the anxiety of that question was coming from. Was she embarrassed to be wrong? She shouldn't be, if she was.her

"You thought that when a person's body is wrong, they're body just changed on it's own eventually?"

"Nonono, I mean. I thought everyone's did."

Luonim blinked.

"You thought. Everyone's. Body is born wrong. Like mine?" She was usually a stickler for grammar and sentence flow when she spoke, but the shock over that question was too much for her.

She must have interpreted it wrong. Surely.

Leigha did exactly what she did not want her to do, and nodded. Slowly.

Luonim felt embarrassment from Leigha's soul, and remembered what she was just thinking about. Leigha needed to feel comfortable to be wrong around family. One day, when Leigha was an adult, she would be teased for this for all her life, but right now she needed reassurance.

Luonim hugged her him and said "No, love. I thought when I explained it to you I did it better than that, I'm sorry. Only some people are born like that, it's not supposed to happen, but by the time the Nuthri noticed it they couldn't stop it from happening. More kids will be born like that too, eventually. They made a way for us to help those people, to fix their bodies to be the way their souls like, but they couldn't stop it from happening to start with."

During this speech, she heard several sets of footsteps outside the hall. She wasn't sure whose they were, but paid little attention to it.

Leigha hugged fiercely for the latter half of this speech, and then shouted, "I could have been a boy this ENTIRE TIME?"

Outside the room, the footsteps stopped. The door slammed opened.

End Chapter Two

[zombiebabysitter]

Location: Los Angeles, California Timing: Current Summary: Charlie continues to run away from the grief that haunts him by doing something impulsive and reckless (again).

Charlie was faced with a decision. Embrace that he would be famous for a tragedy and become something greater than his friends, or let the grief consume him and fade into obscurity.

Charlie Hart was an expert on running away from intense negative feelings. Best friends and long-term partner die in a tragic attack? Become an adrenaline junkie to deal with it. Old friend turns into a confusing mixture of friend and new partner but then Old best friend confesses his feelings after you almost die from blood loss from a brand new piercing courtesy of a demon? 

Pack that shit away and not deal with it. Run away to California for the release of a new album recorded by him and said dead best friends and long-term partner. Instead of seeking grief counseling, throw yourself into your work, impulse-buy a house, and continue to do reckless shit that could get you killed because you have a get-out-of-death-free card courtesy of the fuckers that killed your best friends.

Charlie was faced with a decision. Embrace that he would be famous for a tragedy and become something greater than his friends, or let the grief consume him and fade into obscurity. But music? Music was his life. It was everything to him that even in times of crisis, he could always fall back to. 

After a long debate with his stylist, Charlie decided it was time to be rid of the long hair. It had served its purpose. But this was a new chapter in his life, he wanted to be something greater than he already was, and he wanted to be something new. The electric trimmer buzzed to life, and the barber behind him looked at Charlie in the mirror, giving him one last chance to change his mind, but Charlie just nodded his head and looked back at the barber. This was it, he was cutting it all off. 

The barber nodded back, then let the trimmer go through the locks of brow hair, and Charlie took a deep breath as he saw the hair fall to the floor. No going back now. It was hair, it’d grow back if he decided he hated this. He closed his eyes and let the barber get to work, cutting trimming, and shaping. And when Charlie opened his eyes? His hair was cut short, and curls much tamer. Still long for short hair standards, he’d be able to toss it around and play with it, but the length was gone, and the bangs were gone. He was someone else now.

He gave his thanks to the barber, smiling and tipping him well before setting off onto the street and towards the hotel he’d been staying in. He’d have to send a photo to Finn before the concert, knowing that his boyfriend would be pissy with him if he didn’t show him first before everyone else. He felt lighter, as if cutting off the hair was cutting off a piece of him that he’d been desperately holding onto despite knowing he had to let go.

As he walked down the street, he held up his phone and snapped a photo of himself, then sent it off to Finn with a smirk on his face, then pocketed the device and headed into the hotel where he’d get ready for a show completely on his own, the rituals of the other band members fresh in his mind as he got dressed, got picked up, and was transported to the venue. Vik’s little run in place she’d do and whirlwinds with her arms before every show, Lindz’s vocal warmups, and of course, his and Gareth’s game of smacking each other’s hands together. 

A sad smile was on his face as he stared at the places his bandmates should have been before he forced himself to light up, turning into a larger-than-life stage performer that was Charlie Hart. 

He was fine because he had to be. Because if he didn’t keep going, he’d surely fall apart. And this was his life, this was the life that he’d signed up for.

No looking back.

[tiressian]

New Look, New Me

Pairing: Satoru x Shoko

Rating T

Notes: Established Relationship, Fluff, Crack, Humour, Implied Sexual Content, Facial Hair, Long Hair

Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48941041

...

Satoru found his way to the Infirmary after all the fanfare about his return—and his appearance—died down. The time distortion of Prison Realm seemed particularly concentrated on his hair, which Satoru decided to take as a blessing, since so few things in their world were. His appointment with Shoko hadn’t taken longer than fifteen minutes, but she’d still blocked out an extra half hour so he could lie down. Now, the half hour was almost up and the conversation had skirted towards his appearance. 

“Don’t know how Suguru could stand it, but as soon as I’m up I’m finding a razor,” he said. 

“Why?” Shoko was sitting by the examination bed, carding her fingers through the strands. 

“Kids were calling me ‘Tarzan’.”

“Tarzan’s hot though,” Shoko said. She touched his cheek. “And the beard makes you look dignified.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve seen Yaga with no beard. Hundred per cent less intimidating, like a sphynx cat. Have you ever seen one of those?” 

Satoru hadn’t, and he laughed when she showed him a picture on her phone. He smiled, feeling his confidence return. “So… ‘Tarzan’ plays?”

Shoko hooked her fingers around a strand of white as she leaned forward. “Come find me later tonight and I’ll show you how much it does,” she whispered. 

.

‘Tarzan’ played for about a week. Satoru took to tying his hair back with one of Shoko’s scrunchies when he trained. The beard he maintained after raiding Yaga’s effects for the latter’s beard trimmer (bittersweet, that). With his upcoming showdown with Sukuna looming, no one on campus had time to notice his disappearances in the downtimes between training sessions, just like how they didn’t notice that Shoko’s skin appeared luminous, dark circles seemingly vanishing almost overnight. 

Of course, anyone who did notice was certainly not brazen enough to point out to a guy who could level a whole city block with a point of a finger, that there was some correlation between these two observations. 

And then one day, while Satoru was walking Shoko back to her office, both of them sweaty and flushed for non-work-related reasons, the Tarzan bubble burst. Shoko was listing off some cosplays Satoru could feasibly pull off with his new look, when there was a rush of footsteps rapidly approaching from behind. 

“Gakukanji!” Ino panted. Satoru and Shoko continued on, waiting for him to pass. Ino’s hand closed over Satoru’s arm. “Gakukanji! Sir! There’s—oh fuckmylife!” Ino said, face turning pale as Satoru loomed dangerously over him, cursed energy beginning to surge.

“Excuse me?” Satoru said, one eye twitching.

Sweat beaded and slid down Ino’s temple. “Uh…haha. Heeey Gojo,” he stammered. “I uhh was looking for Gakukanji and I—haha it’s so weird, in my head it uhh. Why’s your aura all purple all of a sudden haha…”

Shoko snorted, and turned away, a hand flying to stifle the rest of her laughter. While Satoru’s ire shifted to her, Ino used the distraction to escape, sprinting around the corner for safety. They could both hear him howling with laughter the instant he was out of range. 

Shoko restrained Satoru before he could pursue. “Gojo, chill,” she said. “Mistaken identity happens all the time. Sometimes I get mistaken for—”

“Gakukanji?” Satoru spat. Shoko’s stoic facade crumbled, one hand covering her mouth while the other moved to keep her sides from splitting. “It’s dead now Shoko, all of it. Ruined. The hair, the beard—”

“Because of that? Don’t be ridiculous, that’s a compliment! No one lives to his age and imitation is the sincerest form of—”

“Shoko.” Satoru interrupted calmly through his teeth. “Age isn’t the issue and you know i—”

A door opened a few metres away.  

Gakukanji stuck his head out, munching on an apple as his gaze landed on them. “Heard a commotion,” he said, before pausing, peering closely at Satoru. Juice trickled into Gakukanji’s beard, which the latter didn’t seemed particularly bothered by as he smirked. “Well wouldya look at that; like staring into the past.” 

Satoru bristled, turned his gaze to the nearest wall and said nothing. 

Shoko cleared her throat. “Sir. Ino’s looking for you,” she said, grip tight on Satoru’s arm while the latter shook with cold fury. “I’ll text him that you’re in your office?”

“I appreciate that. I’ll see you two at the staff meeting, 3 PM—sharp.” Gakukanji nodded to each of them in turn. “Ieiri. Junior.” 

The door closed. Shoko snorted.

“Junior?” Satoru sputtered. He fixed Shoko with a withering stare then wheeled around and started stalking down the corridor, making a beeline for his room. 

“Oh come on,” Shoko called, sounding exasperated. “Tarzan plays.”

“‘Tarzan’ is dead!” Satoru hissed. If the campus was for even one moment allowed to see him and Gakukanji in the same room, Satoru knew he’d never see the end of it. He’d rather crawl back into Prison Realm and die, thank you very much. “Dignified my ass. Fuck that!”

“Like staring into the past,” Shoko mimicked. 

She had to half-jog to catch up to his longer strides, and when she did, she hooked her elbow in his. Partly as a show of support but mostly so as not to be left behind when he teleported to avoid anyone else making the connection. 

[thessalian]

Thess vs People In Difficulty

I did not want to be up early this morning but apparently the building management has the landscapers in so I woke up to tree-trimmers at 9am. Ugh. Anyway...

YESTERDAY MORNING

I do not have much time this morning because I did actually sleep until my alarm for once. Sooooo campfires. Heeeeeere campfires campfires campfires...

Huh. Quest up there. Who's this?

Someone getting attacked by machines. Let's do this.

...Okay, lady. I get being protective and tight-lipped, but...

Did ... did you just build a radio? You reverse-engineered a radio.

Riiiiiiight. I forgot how sexist the Oseram can be. Look, lemme see what I can pick up.

Quick climb and ... yes. Okay. Little better.

Well, apparently either Aloy doesn't know the word 'triangulate' or has decided that Silga doesn't. Either way, decent explanation.

Aww. Poor Silga. I will get the triangulations done. ...But not today because I have work. Shelter aaaaaaaand done.

THIS MORNING

Right. Next triangulation coordinate is up there someplace, and there's a Tallneck I can pick up on the way! Score!

Erm. Burrowers and Ravager on one side, Thunderjaw on the other. Talk about a rock and a hard place. Well, let's do some hunting.

One-shotted everything from stealth? Awesome. Aaaaand yeah, I'll go take out a Thunderjaw.

Gun ... radar array ... canister ... gun... Hee. POONK.

You still have mouth lasers buuuuuuut I am largely behind a rock. POONK. Bye, Thunderjaw.

...Sooooooooo there is nothing I can climb to get on this Tallneck. I guess I'm going to have to learn to unlock a flying machine, and then ride one. Yeesh.

Moving on toooooo ... oh, someone's in trouble.

...These are just Chargers, kids. Seriously.

Well, thanks for the welcome. I needed into Shattered Spear for a couple of reasons.

Hrm. Before I start doing things, let's go shopping. Let's see ... weapons.

Oooooooooh SHINY hunter bow. Overdraw damage, critical hit damage, critical hit chance ... stick on a couple of good coils and we're good.

Speaking of, what do they have for... PURPLE STEALTH DAMAGE COIL?!? MIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!

Right. Climbing the Spear.

Just about to the top and then fell. FUCK. Glidiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

Okay, now how do I get up that last bit of--? Oh. There's a ramp inside. Duh.

Well, getting better. I can do the base one later. Lemme go talk to Tuvok-- Jetakkah, I mean.

Okay. Dude. Wait. Where are you going?

Why are you walking up to a wall and just standing there?

Right. This is bullshit. What's the quest name?

"Forbidden West wound in the--" Ah. That's already a commonly used search term. Wiiiiiiiiiiith "bug" attached to the name.

NOTE: To those playing this, if Jetakkah gets stuck walking into a wall? Restart, try again. Not just reload; restart. If that doesn't work, fast travel far away, restart, try again.

This apparently counts for both times this quest gets commonly bugged.

(It was an issue on Playstation too, so this isn't just a port issue.)

Right; I'm about done for the morning anyway. I'll try again later.

And now, work.

[polarisgreenley]

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 19: Forget-Me-Not

Floriography: Clinging to the past. Remembrance. True love.

Summary: A lil' trip to Feldcroft to meet the Sallow family.

[AO3]

Excerpt of the chapter is below the cut, and the full chapter could be viewed through the AO3 link above!

With a small wave, Artemis made her way to the Common Room. Sebastian stood near the waterfall in a pair of dark grey trousers, plaid beige button down and dark brown button-down vest with his school bag. Each piece of garment looked well-loved; it suited him.

“Good morning Sebastian. You look nice.”

Sebastian turned, his eyes widened slightly as he gave a cheeky grin. “Why thank you. Wakefield’s work?”

She nodded. “Mm. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“No, you’re just in time,” said Sebastian. “Come on; Feldcroft isn’t too far, and you haven’t explored the area much right?”

“Not really, no,” said Artemis as she kept up with Sebastian.

“Well, we could walk there since we’re so early. It’d be a bit pricey but we could take a carriage part way.”

Artemis hummed. “What about flying part way instead?” 

“I don’t exactly own a broom,” said Sebastian.

“I do.”

Sebastian whipped his head around. “You do?!”

“Well, technically, I don’t own it yet,” started Artemis as she tapped her legside bag. “Mr. Weekes needed someone to test his upgrades, and I needed a broom. The broom will officially be mine at the end of the school year, upgrades included.”

Sebastian’s mouth fell agape for a few seconds before morphing into a smile.

“First of all, you need to tell me how a broom fit in there. Second, broom sounds fine except for one thing.”

“Oh?”

“There’s only one,” said Sebastian.

Artemis blinked twice.

Sebastian sighed as he lifted his finger.

“One broom, Artie,” repeated Sebastian as he moved the finger between himself and her. “You’re okay with riding with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a broom,” said Artemis.

Sebastian let out a noise. “Have you ever ridden with another person?”

“Twice,” grimaced Artemis. “Thought if I flew it this time, it could be different. Unless you mind?”

“No, of course not,” answered Sebastian too quickly. He cleared his throat. “Alright. Let’s walk to Keenbridge then fly. I can help steer.”

Sebastian filled the air with excited conversation the entire way to Keenbridge. He spoke of how Anne was excited to see them today, of how they used to run around the hamlet and jump into the ocean during the summers. His warm chocolate eyes sparkled under the October sun. Artemis listened and responded whilst carefully concealing the nerves of going to a new friend’s house.

Keenbridge was a humble but lively hamlet. A potioneer was busy manning her stand, villagers chattered away with their tea and children played in the hamlet centre. A nostalgic smile spread as she watched a girl being playfully chased by a boy. Her gaze lifted to Sebastian, who looked wistfully at the same pair. She averted her gaze as she proceeded to pull out the Moon Trimmer.

Sebastian leaned in as he appraised the broom.

“Moon Trimmer? Reliable, but not speedy. Why didn’t you go for the fastest one?”

“This one has bags,” pointed Artemis before expanding the Cushioning Charm.

As she mounted the broom, she looked toward Sebastian who remained standing where he was.

“Sebastian?”

The freckled boy took another moment before he made his way behind her and mounted the broom.

“Pardon me,” said Sebastian as he leaned forward.

His left hand wrapped around the broom handle right above hers, and his right arm circled her waist, holding her steady against his chest. She could smell the cinnamon from his cologne mixed in the wind.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “The broom’s going to tend downward. Give it a few laps low before we go up.”

His breath tickled her ear, and suddenly she wondered if this was why Imelda asked of the attire choice.

“Right.”

The broom was reliable and steady; it didn’t fail her when she wore armour, and it wouldn’t fail her now. Soon, they lifted into the softly lit sky and leaned forward.

“Libro.”

“What did you just cast?” Sebastian asked.

“Sensory Balancing Charm,” answered Artemis.

“Why?”

Artemis hummed. “I get motion sick. This helps me to… not.”

Sebastian let out a laugh. “Huh, so you do have some weaknesses.”

Artemis chuckled in lieu of a response. As they flew, the foliage painted the lands below in their myriads of colour. The crisp autumn air caressed her cheeks like a long-lost lover.

“Wow, this is … breath-taking,” breathed out Artemis.

Sebastian chuckled low behind her, his hand carefully guiding the broom toward Feldcroft.

“Yeah, it’s nice to just… get away from it all sometimes,” sighed Sebastian.

She hadn’t heard him sound this relaxed before.

“I take it you like flying?”

Sebastian nodded. “Anne and I used to chase each other around with the school brooms. Even got Ominis to join once or twice. Granted, he was the one clinging onto me.”

“Were you on the Quidditch team as well? Imelda mentioned Anne was a Chaser.”

“Mm. Played Beater. We were back-up our second year and starters in our third but after Anne got cursed,” paused Sebastian as he sighed. His warm breath tickled the back of her neck. “Anne was much more into Quidditch; I prefer casual flying.”

“Hopefully she’ll be able to come back soon,” said Artemis.

“She will,” said Sebastian. “I know it.”

She heard the faintest crack where the parasitic frustration snuck beneath the optimism. It was the same frustration that turned her father into a near stranger. She slid her left hand up just enough so her fingertip ghosted his wrist.

“You aren’t alone,” murmured Artemis.

She thought she heard Sebastian’s breath hitch. She began retracting her hand - perhaps she overstepped. Instead, his hand wrapped over hers and gripped tightly.

“Thank you,” whispered Sebastian.

She gave a small hum. Only the sound of wind flitted for a few minutes, and he made no attempt to move his hands away.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Your hand is freezing.”

“And yours is burning,” countered Artemis.

“I admit, I run hotter than most, but your hands are colder than Ominis’,” chuckled Sebastian. “Ah, we’re almost there.”

Feldcroft appeared below with blankets of grass and scattered little homes. There was a centre circle and farms for each home, but not much else. The air filled with a haze of dust as they dipped lower, and she sneezed quietly into her chest.

“You alright? Not catching a cold are you?” Sebastian asked. His arm tightened around her waist.

She shook her head. “No. But it’s a bit dusty, isn’t it?”

“Thanks to Ranrok’s lot,” muttered Sebastian.

The blood froze in her veins. “What?”

“Yeah,” said Sebastian bitterly. “See that castle to our right?”

Artemis turned her head; in the not too far distance stood a castle. Even from this distance it was clear the castle was past its glory days.

“Ever since last year, Ranrok’s Loyalists took a peculiar interest in it. Rookwood castle. No one has felt safe here since.”

“Wait, did you say Rookwood?” Artemis asked. “As in, criminal leader Victor Rookwood, Rookwood?”

“Could be. As far as I know – or rather from what Ominis gathered – there’s at least three Rookwood’s alive. I don’t know if it’s Victor Rookwood that owns that castle now but, either way, it’s overrun with Loyalists,” gritted Sebastian. “This dust, and all the debris is coming from that plateau to our left. There’s an abandoned estate up there, and the Loyalists have been digging for something… Anne was cursed there by them.”

Artemis tilted her head. “But why would they want to curse a child?”

“Dunno, Anne wasn’t going there for tea,” said Sebastian darkly. “We smelled smoke in the middle of the night, and there was fire shooting from that estate. Before we could stop her, Anne rushed out – racing toward the fire, worried someone’d been hurt.”

The grip around her hand tightened as his arm around her waist shook. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was furious. At the goblins or himself, she didn’t know.

“She came face to face with a horde of goblins frantically trying to stamp out the flames. Suddenly, an icy voice drifted out from somewhere in the smoke; ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ A blinding blast followed. They didn’t even give her a chance to run. Even worse, my uncle refuses to investigate, even though he was an Auror.”

Rookwood castle. An abandoned estate. A quaint hamlet.

On a hunch, Artemis dipped further until they both hovered above a lookout, and it clicked.

“Sebastian, this view… it’s the one from the pensieve!” Artemis exclaimed.

“What?”

“The memory in the Restricted Section. The hamlet they revived – it was Feldcroft!”

Sebastian gasped. “Damn, that hamlet? Wait, so the girl –”

“– Isidora. The estate must’ve been her home. This – this can’t be a coincidence, Sebastian.”

Sebastian leaned forward as his cheeked touched her ear. Her cheeks warmed at the contact.

“Wait, you mean those goblins could be digging for something to do with ancient magic?” Sebastian asked loudly.

Artemis averted her gaze as she gave a nod. It took a moment before Sebastian slowly leaned back, at least, his cheek was no longer against her ear.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Do you think Anne’s curse could be ancient magic related? You’d be able to see it then, right?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can definitely check,” agreed Artemis.

Sebastian hummed. “Come on, it’s high time you met Anne. Land us there.”

[athousandmorningss]

some scenes! from my little slice of living on this planet! within the galaxy.

give the Barbie MovieTM an Oscar.

the mansplaning scenes and the kens on the beach playing guitar at the barbies were triggering. as was being picked up by a male Ub*er driver in a tesla playing country music afterwards.

the best part about watching it was laughing in tandem with strangers. and, not having to have a long "discussion"/ debate with y afterwards. holy shit.

-

shane brown, photographer for reservation dogs, had a gallery opening of his behind the scene photographs of the show. above are my faves, and seem a manifestation of @trinilikesalt encouraging me to make the show my own. i get to see the images, and so do you, but he does not.

-

one of my new projects is to take a daily selfie without consideration for desirability: just how i look or feel or am in the moment. flower pic is one of those images (the rest will remain private, promise).

-

not pictured: the 5 mile walk (hike? what distinguishes a walk from a hike) to and from my favorite trail post rain storm; the morning meditation; the couple of poems and free writes I penned out for fun; and the brunch with K& A, in which I had goat cheese & green onion spread on multigrain toast and thick-sliced bacon i dipped into fig jam. been exactly a year since i've been to that spot, on the dot, and the timing of the invitation to go there encouraged memories of Then to Now--incredible what can happen in a year. I feel different because I am different.

-

I ordered a bathing suit & a coochie hair trimmer for my MA trip. Today is a day that made me so happy to still be alive.