#camp mom mari returns

[pearlessance]

Forgive Me, Father - Idle Threats [viii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel hears your confession and breaks all ten commandments in the house of the holy.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, mention of sexual assault, murder, canon typical violence, renouncing of god, desecration of a church, blood, brief daddy kink

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The following days are easier than any other you’ve had since leaving Jackson. It takes two days, but Joel hears your laugh again and feels himself release a heavy weight at the sound. Once, when the two of you are switching watch shifts, you sleepily mutter his name. And he goes to you like he always will—and you whisper an almost incoherent confession of your affection. “I love you, too,” you say, and he tries not to think about the way it makes him feel like a boy your age, hearing those words for the first time. 

You move slower, and it’s not because of the extra weight strapped to your horses. Joel doesn’t say it, but he knows it’s because you’re afraid of returning to Jackson. Afraid of things going back to the way they were before this run.

In truth, Joel worries about it too. Worries about finding a new routine, worries about Maria and Tommy and Ellie, worries about what they’ll say. It won’t make him change his mind, he knows. Nothing would ever make him regret this selfish decision to keep you. But sometimes, in a too-long moment of silence, anxiety builds in his chest when he thinks of it. 

But you still have several days before you return, and Joel intends to soak up this sweet, delicate time with you while he still can.

A little over halfway back to Jackson, you stop before the sun sets and make camp in an old, abandoned church. The very same one advertised on the billboard Joel had seen on the way to Casper.

Some of the pews are turned over while others have been broken apart and likely set ablaze in the pile of ashes in the center of the floor. There are no infected, but there’s a stone statue of Mary that looms ominously in the corner, covered in dust and cracked along its painted surface.

Joel feels uncomfortable here. Feels watched, judged. His skin crawls and he thinks about pushing on until you find some other place to rest.

The altar table has been left untouched, decorated with a yellowed, satin ribbon draped along its center. The bible lying on top is flipped open to a passage Joel knows well.

Corinthians 10:13 

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

It’s bookmarked not with a scrap of paper but with a silver necklace tucked in its spine. A dainty thing with a cross dangling from the end of it. Joel picks it up, watches it sway between his calloused fingers. 

And when he turns to face you, you’re standing in the middle of the center aisle and the setting sunlight casts a shadow across your face, making you look like some angelic being sent to him by God himself. “Did you ever come to one of these before the world ended?”

Joel nods, takes the necklace in his hands and finds his way back to you. “Quite a bit when I was a kid,” he answers. “My mom was pretty religious. We went to every Sunday service and sometimes the ones on Wednesdays, too. Even sent Tommy and I to the church's after-school program for young kids.”

He holds the necklace out to show you, and a shiver runs down his spine when you trace the cross in his palm, your touch electrifying. It’s just the smallest brush of your index finger, but it makes the air get caught in his lungs. “Pretty,” you say wistfully. “Do you believe in God?”

Joel jerks his chin in a silent demand and you obey wordlessly, turning away from him. He unclasps the necklace as you hold your hair out of the way. “I did,” he answers slowly, wrapping the silver chain carefully around your throat. “And then I didn’t.”

“And now?” 

He secures it and runs his knuckles down the nape of your neck. No would be the closest thing to the truth, but it’s not quite it. Joel thinks about lying to save himself the shame but rejects the thought as soon as it comes. “I believe in you,” he says quietly.

Somehow this confession feels heavier than his declaration of love. Perhaps it’s because this is the thing he’s struggled with, this strange worship of Judas. You’ve come to him in pieces, a shell of a girl, a betrayer—and yet it’s your altar he crawls to. It’s you who holds the keys to heaven, who controls both his grace and his damnation.

Joel leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He can feel your breath falter, and so he does it again. This time a kiss to your shoulder, right above the collar of your sweater. 

His hands have a mind of their own as they find your waist. Joel knows this is wrong, knows how sinful it is, and yet he knows the only way to endure the taste of the forbidden fruit is to bite into it, to devour it, to consume it for as long as he’s able. He has spent so much of his life fighting, resisting, repenting—but maybe it’s time God asks for his forgiveness.

Your skin is smooth beneath his calloused palms. He slides them beneath your shirt, over your hips, up your torso. He pulls at the soft garment, and you lift your arms for him to make it easier as he pulls it off and discards it in the nearest pew.

And then his hands are on you again—this time tracing the edge of your jeans, pinky finger dipping slowly beneath the band around your waist, teasing. You’re panting now, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You say his name a little like a prayer and it brings a smile to his face. 

“Shh,” he says. “Patience is a virtue, little girl.” But he wants you, perhaps even more than you want to be touched, so his left hand finds the button of your jeans and undoes it. 

He moves slowly, and you stand completely still as Joel peels the too-tight jeans down your legs. You kick your boots off, and soon you’re standing in the middle of this crumbling church in nothing but a pair of baby pink panties and a white lace bralette, looking every bit the divine goddess he doesn’t deserve. 

When you turn to face him, there’s a playful glint in your eye. “Let me try it,” you say. “One question, though. Is it forgive me, father? Or is it forgive me, Daddy?”

Two things happen inside him at once. 

First, the crudeness of your words baffles him so completely that he laughs. Full-on laughs for the first time in twenty years. The vulgarity of it in a place of worship is somehow both amusing and horrifying. 

Second, all the blood in his head rushes south. Because the word daddy in your mouth is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard, the dirtiest thing he’s ever heard, and Joel knows right away that he will never have the strength to process why such a thing makes him so goddamn hard. Doesn’t even attempt it. 

He simply enjoys it instead. Allows it to drown him, consume him wholly. Accepts what is and what isn’t. Accepts that he is the most deplorable man that’s ever existed and it’s why he’ll never deserve you but it’s also why it’ll never matter. Because now…you belong to the most deplorable man. 

The devil and his pretty, perfect Judas.

And then you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and Joel struggles to keep his weary heart from bursting from his chest. 

His attempts at composure are blown to pieces when you press your hands together and look up at him through your lashes. With all humor bled from the moment, overtaken by a sudden hunger, you say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” and something evil stirs inside him.

Something more than sinful. Something ungodly. Something blasphemous. 

That cross is draped beautifully between your breasts, cleavage elevated by the angle of your arms.

Joel reaches out with both hands and runs them through your hair affectionately. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he says. “You got somethin’ to confess?”

You nod and a smirk graces your face. “I’ve been having wicked thoughts,” you say, voice taking on an innocent and girlish tone. “And…I’ve been giving into temptation, Father.”

“S’that right?” Joel licks his lips. His cock throbs in his jeans, desperate for your touch in a way it’s never been before.

He watches, transfixed, as you take your bottom lip between your teeth, taking your hands from the position of prayer and instead running them up his strong thighs. You slide them beneath his flannel, soft hands cool against his heated skin. “I’ve been letting a man touch me.” You’re whispering, but he feels each syllable down to his bones. “An older man,” you continue, pulling at his belt. 

Joel finds you mesmerizing. Thinks you’ve ruined him. Completely, utterly decimated the man he used to be. “Touch you how?”

You don’t take your eyes off his as his belt clinks against the button of his jeans. “I’ve let him inside me, Father,” you say, pulling down his zipper at a torturous pace. “I’ve let him in my mouth, in my heart, in between my thighs.” 

He never thought it possible, but his need for you grows teeth, morphs into some vicious, ravenous thing. Joel brushes his fingers through your hair, pulling lightly at the roots. “And what do you think you should do as repentance, sweetheart?”

Joel’s reminded of a siren’s song when you answer, “I think I should show a little extra devotion. Don’t you?” You pull his cock from his jeans, and the simple touch of your hand has him nearly shaking in anticipation. You break character for only long enough to giggle softly, wipe the back of your hand over your glossy lips, and say, “My mouth is watering.”

He smooths your hair back away from your face, admiring the way you look on your knees for him, just as desperate as he is. “Go’head, baby,” he says.

You don’t waste any time. You’re slow in your pursuit; tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Savoring, worshiping, devoting yourself to him and him only. You swirl your tongue around the head, licking up drops of precum.

When you finally take him into your mouth, you don’t stop until you’ve swallowed him whole, choking on it, nose pressed to the tuft of hair below his navel. It’s the most glorious thing Joel’s ever seen in all his life. And then you moan, and he can feel the vibrations of it down to his toes. 

You pull your head back far enough, and your mouth leaves him completely, connected by nothing but strands of saliva. Your lips are already bruised and swollen, but they pull into the prettiest, proudest smile he’s ever seen, and Joel’s weak in the knees. 

“Filthy little girl,” he says affectionately, hands still running through the silky strands of your hair. “Y’like that? Hm? You like that mouth filled up, don’t you?”

“Mmhm.” There’s so much love, so much worship in your eyes that he feels his chest pull tight. You take his cock in your mouth again, tongue sliding along the underside of it, cheeks hollowed out to take him in deeper.

Joel feels your devotion with each soft lick, each swallow at the back of your throat, each ragged, choked breath. He knows he won’t last long. Your mouth is too hot, too wet, too sweet. And when you pick up the pace, bobbing your head, fingernails leaving indentations in the exposed skin of his thighs, pressure builds at the base of his spine like a fucking noose. “There you go,” he encourages. “Doin’ so fuckin’ good, baby. Shit —just like that.”

Your cheeks are flushed, and Joel’s once gentle hands pull tight in your hair, guiding your mouth down onto him. It only makes those delicious moans around his cock that much sweeter. Your thighs are clamped tightly together, and he barrels towards euphoria as he thinks about just how wet he knows you are, his dirty little girl.

“Fuck, baby—fuck. Hold on, hold on.” He pulls your head back, cock slick and glossy, covered in your spit. He’s going to finish just like this if he’s not careful. “Gonna be over too soon if you keep that up.”

“Please, Joel,” you say. “I want to taste it. It’s all I want. Let me make you feel good.”

Joel thinks Michaelangelo never would’ve sculpted David, had his existence overlapped with yours. Because in all the time of the universe, a sight has never lived as beautiful as the one of you begging on your knees before him.

What kind of man would he be if he refused? Joel wants to give you everything you could ever ask for. Wants to give you the world at whatever cost to his soul.

So, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your bruised lips around his cock again. You feel like heaven, or as close to it as he’ll ever be allowed.

He comes at the back of your throat with a groan and trembling hands in your hair. Hands that are all too aware that they hold something holy, something divine. “ Goddamn —fuck. Mm, yeah. There you go, baby. There you go.”

His cock throbs in your mouth, and you don’t stop sucking until he’s completely spent. And when you do finally lean back and stick out your tongue, he’s nearly hard again at the obscene way his come drips down your lips, down your chin. 

Then you swallow, and Joel grins and rests his palm gently on your cheek. He uses the rough pad of his thumb to push the last few drops back into your mouth, and you suck it down greedily. “Gotta take it all, little girl. Make me proud, hm?”

And as soon as you’re satisfied, Joel’s pulling you back to your feet and pressing his mouth to yours in a ravenous kiss. He can taste remnants of himself on you, and it’s the most comforting sensation he’s ever experienced. It’s proof of your union, evidence of your devotion. A physical, tangible way to convince him he’s not alone in his sacrilege.

Joel lifts you off your feet, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you to the altar table, lays you down, and pushes your knees apart. Normally, he likes to take his time with you. Likes to savor the way you taste, the way you feel. But he’s so hungry for you and you only that he cannot— cannot wait another fucking second.

But then you say his name and his every intention freezes. “You don’t have to,” you say, and it confuses him. You attempt an explanation. “I don’t want you to feel like you always have to make me finish, too. I just…I didn’t do it expecting anything in return. I want you to know that.”

You sound so sincere, so… benevolent. A far cry from the bratty little girl he first met. He presses a kiss to your temple and says quietly, “I’d never let my little girl go without. Not the kinda man I am, baby.”

He might be too old to go rounds with you, but he knows how to make you feel good. He’s real good at it, in fact.

Joel leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your clit, right over your panties. He delights in the way it makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds you make when he pulls the fabric to the side and slides his tongue through your wet warmth. 

He presses your legs back, opens you further, and laps at your pussy like a man starved for you because he is. You taste like redemption, like home.

Your hands weave into his hair, tugging lightly, and Joel moans when you press his face against your pussy like he just can’t get close enough. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard, tongue rolling over it softly. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, Joel— God —”

A groan escapes him, lips vibrating with the sound of it. His cock begins to harden again, hanging heavy between his legs. He’s insatiable for you; returned to the needy, desperate stage of his masculinity he once thought he’d grown out of.

Joel quickens the movement of his tongue and slips a finger inside of you. Your back arches off the altar table and your hips grind against his face, smearing your slick down his chin, over his lips.

He hooks his finger inside of you and strokes the spot that makes you writhe. You look so beautiful he thinks you must be some divine being. It’s the only thing that makes sense in his head. 

Your legs begin to tremble around his shoulders and that’s when he decides to pull away. Because he wants you to cum for him, wants to be the reason you shiver and shake—but he wants to feel it. 

In one smooth movement, he pulls you to the edge of the altar table and sinks his cock into you deep.

“Oh my God,” you whimper. “Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he says, stilling the instinctual rocking of his hips. You’re so tight, so smooth and wet as your pussy flutters around his cock. He pushes into you to the hilt but doesn’t move, doesn’t give you the satisfaction. He moves his hands to your lower belly, applying just a little bit of pressure. He can feel himself inside you, can feel just how full of him you are. “Want you to cum with me, little girl,” he says. “Can you do that for me? Hm?”

Slowly, experimentally, he shifts his hips the smallest bit, thrusting into you and laughing maliciously at the way you squeeze your eyes shut and whine for more. “I can—can try,” you stammer. “But it feels so —”

“Shh, I know baby,” he says, thrusting into you again, a little harder this time. It feels euphoric, indulging himself in you in a place of worship. He can feel faith in the air like magic, faith in you, in himself, in the love you share.

He moves again, fucking you slow and deep. If it weren’t for the way you make him feel, he thinks he might last a little longer. But the taste of ambrosia lingers on his tongue and he can see the pulsing of your clit and feel the tension in your muscles created from holding yourself back from the edge of pleasure.

Pride swells in his chest. His perfect girl, doing everything he asks, doing anything to please him. It makes him feel holy, like maybe the only godly presence in the room is him.

This is what you’ve done to him. You’ve taken this shell of a man and turned him seraphic, turned him sacred through your worship. Emotion builds in his throat when he thinks of it, when he realizes just how lucky he is to exist in this same universe as you, in the same lifetime. 

He kisses you deep and fucks you even deeper.

“Joel,” you pant, fingernails digging into the side of the altar table. The aged satin cloth has been wrinkled beneath your weight, hanging slightly askew off the edge. “Please, please, I can’t—!”

Warmth pools low in his belly. You sound so pretty when you beg. He presses one hand harder against your abdomen and uses the other to circle your clit. He can feel his cock move beneath his palm with each thrust and the sensation is the filthiest thing he’s ever experienced.

The pressure builds and builds and builds, and then finally —

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum for me,” he says, thrusting a little faster, rhythm faltering as rapture fills him like sunlight. Your legs tremble around his hips and your moans echo in the church as you find faith, too.

“I love you,” you say, and it feels like redemption. Like the opening of heaven’s gates. 

Like forgiveness.

You come down slowly, and Joel’s completely spent with almost no energy left. Yet still he helps you dress, pulls your sweater back on, and buttons up those too-tight jeans.

You eat together, rationing what little food you have left to try and stretch these precious days out a little longer. You admit around a bite of hard bread that you’re exhausted from the day’s ride and he is, too. And so you work together to stack the pews in front of the church’s double doors, sealing yourself inside but more importantly keeping anything outside from getting in.

There’s a window at the back of the church in a room Joel knows was once used for confessional. He leaves it cracked just enough to hear the horses outside if a commotion is caused. And then he holds you in his arms and sleeps. 

It’s the best sleep Joel’s gotten in twenty-five years, the sound of your voice echoing even in his dreams. 

But halfway through the night, the sound of whinnying and rambunctious laughter can be heard, jarring you both awake. 

You’re out of his arms and at the back of the church before Joel’s finished blinking his eyes open. 

He stands to his feet, heart racing behind his ribcage. 

Men’s voices, but far away. Several of them. 

He watches you move quickly through the church to the window at the front, watches you carefully peak through the dirty glass pane. 

Joel saddles up behind you and has never been more thankful that you skipped the warmth of a fire. Because fifteen yards away, there’s a group of men passing through. Some on horses, others walking casually beside them. They’re not subtle about their presence. 

Maybe they don’t think anyone’s around. And on any normal day, they would be right. Except this day, Joel’s here. You’re here.

He picks up his rifle from the makeshift bed the two of you created hours ago. 

You don’t move. You stay focused, transfixed as if you’re trying to see the minute details of their faces from this far away. You wipe the glass with the ivory sleeve of your sweater and it comes away grimy, covered in dust.

Joel knows there’s something you’re not telling him. Can feel the tension, electric and tight in the air, skin crawling with it. Your eyes are narrowed, focused on the sound of rambunctious laughter coming from the small group of men. 

And then your spine straightens and all concern bleeds from your face, replaced in an instant with rage. Red, murderous rage. Joel thinks he’s only seen that sort of frenzy in his own reflection. Now it stares back at him, mirrored and bloodthirsty. “What is it?”

You don’t answer. The scrape of your knife against its sheath at your thigh strikes a terror in him he hasn’t felt in years. His stomach turns uncomfortably because Joel knows, he knows something isn’t right. Something is going to go wrong. He can feel it in his marrow. 

“Stop,” he says. “Talk to me.”

It’s like his words don’t even register. You say nothing as you pull at the pews stacked in front of the doors. They scrape noisily against the hardwood floor, and Joel tries to find something to stop you, to get through to you—but that knife is still clutched in your blanched fist and he knows in your rage you’ll swing at him all the same.

“There are eight of them and two of us,” he tries to reason. “We have no ammunition, no bullets, no arrows. We have to let them—”

“Go?” You turn your frenzied eyes on him. “What’s now eight used to be twenty,” you say. “I won’t let them get away this time.”

“Then we plan for it,” he says, holding out a hand and taking a tentative step toward you. It doesn’t matter to him what your reasoning may be. Joel knows that sort of wrath, knows he’ll never change your mind. And he knows following you down this path of slaughter is bound to bloody his hands further, to taint his soul this time beyond repair. 

But he made a promise to you. Nothing in this world will you ever face alone. 

The problem is that Joel knows neither of you will make it out alive. Not in this. You got lucky back in Casper, and he’s got the knowledge and experience with age to know you won’t get lucky twice.

He can’t let you do this. 

“They won’t get far, okay? Not in an area like this. We go home— tomorrow. We ride to Jackson and we’ll get there in a day if we don't stop. And then we’ll come back for them, alright? We’ll stock up and track them down. I swear to you—”

“You don’t know,” you say, voice shaking. “You don’t know what they did—!”

“So tell me. Tell me everything. Give me the knife.” He reaches for it slowly, carefully. You eye him like he might grow claws and an extra head if you look away for an instant.

You don’t trust him, Joel realizes. Not at this moment, not with this. “Joel,” you say in warning. “Don’t.”

He wonders what’s led you here. Wonders about who’s distrusting hands you once placed your justice in. 

The answer comes to him the moment the question crosses his mind. 

“I’m not like her,” he says. “Look at me, baby girl. Look at me .”

You do. And though that frenzied look lingers in your eyes, something in you softens and he’s grateful for it.

“I’m not Maria. You understand me? When I make you a promise, I mean it. I will kill them. All of them. But we have to be smart about this. We have to do it right. Yeah?” He reaches out again. “Give me the knife.”

You angle it higher, just out of his reach. For a second Joel thinks all progress has been lost because he moved too quickly, too carelessly. But then you say, “Swear it to me. Swear on her life that you won't make me let them go.”

On her life. 

Not her death, but her life. A promise of certainty. An unbreakable oath. Because if he fails, if he shatters this trust, Sarah’s life means nothing.

Joel’s lungs ache. Everything hurts and his skin feels like it’s on fire because no one has ever seen him like this. No one has known exactly what to say, exactly which bruises to press. 

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he relents. “I swear on her life that we will find them.”

Carefully, you hand him the blade, and as if giving it away had flipped a switch, you deflate.

Joel slides your knife into the side of his boot when you turn away from him and go back to the window. 

He stands beside you, a looming presence at your back. Even though he wants answers, he doesn’t want to pry them out of you. And your silence allows him the space for his mind to wander into unspeakable places. Joel has seen firsthand the depraved, vile things that mankind spirals into beneath the weight of survival. 

For a time, even he had sunk so incredibly low. 

And because he’s seen so much, his brain is filled with gut-wrenching images, theoretical scenes of torture, corruption, and perversion. Each one is more brutal than the last. And in them all, you’re the center of it. 

You watch the group of men through the window until the blue illumination of their flashlights disappears from view. And the moment they do, you’re slipping through the window in the back of the church. 

Joel follows you, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. But he stays silent and does nothing but help you gather debris fallen from the trees in the wooded area behind the church. 

Once, he picks up a curved stick, and as if you’d seen it from the back of your head, you say, “No. Not that one. If they’re too curved, the arrows won’t shoot straight.”

 The two of you gather timber for over an hour. And when his hands are just as full as yours, you return to the church. Joel returns your knife and you attempt to teach him how to shave the stick correctly and to whittle the point of it into a weapon. 

He’s not even half as fast as you are. For every arrow he creates, you produce three. It’s a slow, tedious process, but eventually, you begin to speak. 

“It happened on the last run I did for Maria,” you say, eyes focused on the knife and wood in your hands. “I fell asleep one night. It’d been days since I’d given myself a chance to rest and it had finally caught up to me. I’d barricaded myself in a house and might as well have been dead to the world. Two of them found me. Didn’t wake me, didn’t try to kill me or anything. They just took my bow and my pack. My pack that was mostly empty, had nothing in it but a twelve gauge with two bullets, some cans of food, water, and those stale fucking barbecue chips.”

You shake your head dismally. 

“Should’ve fuckin left it. But I…I was afraid. If I came back to Jackson without the one thing she asked for, what use was I? What kept me there?”

It pains him to hear you say it. He wants to tell you you’re wrong, that despite what Maria has made you believe, your worth is not tied to what you can do for her. But he doesn’t. Joel just lets you talk. 

“I tracked them to a warehouse a few miles outside of Boise. Watched them for a while, memorized all the entrances, the windows. Even memorized their faces. They had two people on watch in rotating shifts. I didn’t want to kill them, considering they didn’t try to kill me. But I wanted my pack, and so I waited until four of them were talking during a shift change and slipped inside through the back.”

Your eyes darken, and Joel fears what you may say next.

“Didn’t go as planned. One of them saw me. Outed me immediately, of course. And I thought they’d kill me. Shoot me or something. But that didn’t go as planned, either. The leader was called Gabriel.”

Your hands around the arrow still and your eyes grow misty. You’re reliving it, as clearly as if it were happening now.

“He, uhm…held me down. Suggested the rest of them take turns with me.” 

Joel feels something inside him shift. Feels a decision being made, feels murder begin to drip down his fingertips like water.

“They’d already had my shotgun and took the pistol I had tucked in the back of my jeans the second they ripped them off. I thought…I thought it was the end for me. Because even if I survived it, even if I made it through all twenty of them…I might as well have been dead anyway.”

He understands now, Joel realizes. Understands why you were so infuriated about a run for a pregnancy craving when the price was this. His mouth runs dry.

Your words echo in the dark church. “Had my knife tucked up the sleeve of my jacket, though.” A small smile graces your face as you turn the blade over in your fingers admiringly. “Was able to stop Gabriel before he got any further. They were…stupid. Arrogant. Came at me one by one because why would you need more than that to fight a little girl with nothing but a knife ?”

Now there are only eight of them. The main perpetrator perished, his blood stained so deeply into your jacket that when you’d returned to Jackson they’d had to burn it. No salvaging anything from your destruction. 

Nothing but this vengeance, this promise to yourself to right those who wronged you.  He forced you to break it for your own safety. And though a surge of regret and sorrow trickles into his psyche, he knows there’s still an unbroken vow remaining. 

The promise Joel made to you. 

“Some of them ran. I tried to track them but after a few days, I just…I needed sleep. I wanted to go home.” You go black to fletching your arrow, whittling the end into a sharp point. “I’ll find them one day. Then it’ll be me taking turns with them .”

You don’t say much else for the next two hours. And he doesn’t, either. He helps you sharpen the timber into arrows and when you yawn three times in less than five minutes, he gives you his flannel and lets you lay your head in his lap. 

Joel smooths the tangles in your hair as you sleep. And when you begin to softly snore, he carefully shifts your head onto your sleeping bag and tucks the strap of his rifle beneath your arm.

When he slips out of the window in the back of the church, he latches it shut.  He decides against taking a horse, worried it’d create too much commotion. 

But he does take your serrated sawback knife, telling himself it’s poetic justice. 

They’re only two miles away, stashed in a rundown grocery store that’s been picked over one too many times. Two men sit outside the door. Old habits die hard, Joel thinks. 

One has his head tilted back against the stone wall, sleeping with an ease he doesn’t deserve.

Joel takes out the other one first. And he does it quicker than he’d like. He creeps up behind him silently, wraps one hand around his throat, and uses the other to cover his mouth. The snap of his spine reverberates through Joel’s hands, tingling from his palms down to his elbows. 

The other wakes with the commotion but doesn’t even have the chance to scream before your knife is lodged in his neck so deep the sharp point sticks out of the other end. 

Inside, the other six all rest as well. Joel wonders how they can do so peacefully, knowing they’ve given an innocent little girl fuel for her nightmares. A girl who’s lost enough, who’s sacrificed enough, more than anyone should—only to lose a piece of herself at their greedy hands.

He makes quick work of them. Even delights in the way life leaves their eyes. One by one, Joel uses your knife to slit each and every one of their throats. 

By the time he’s finished, his hands are caked in blood, splatters staining the sleeves of his heavy, canvas coat, and all that’s left of the men who hurt you are eight corpses.

You’re still sleeping when he slips back through the window of the church. It’s a little ironic, he thinks, to return here to this holy place with an angel inside, all while covered in the stink of death.

Joel sits beside you, back pressed against a pew. His hands rest on his knees, blood still drying beneath his fingernails. He watches you sleep and thinks his damnation is worth it if this brings you a sense of safety. 

Though he tries not to, Joel thinks an awful lot about Sarah. Thinks about how he failed her, how just a little more brutality could have saved her.

He’s spent years regretting that night, regretting holding on to the shred of humanity he had left when he should have been holding onto her. He makes a promise not to repeat the same bad habits. Makes a promise he’ll never let his naive desire for respite get in the way of his need to protect you, to keep you safe. He’s breaking the habit, the same as he did with Ellie, because Joel doesn’t think he'll ever survive a loss of such magnitude again.

It doesn’t matter what he has to become to keep you safe. Doesn’t matter the cost to his soul.

Your face looks peaceful but your fists are coiled tight beneath your head. As if even in your sleep you’re fighting something, always on the defense. He wonders if it’s a trait you inherited before or after those men, before or after your sister's death, before or after the accusatory way the inhabitants of Jackson look at you.

Joel feels something heavy rise up in him. Something akin to sorrow or grief. This deep, pensive heartache because it’s just not fair. You’re so young, so innocent, dealing with the same demons he still fights and sometimes loses to at age fifty-two. 

He doesn’t want this for you. Doesn’t want you to become volatile, murderous, monstrous in the ways he has. Joel spent so much time pushing you away and he thinks maybe it’s because there’s so much of his anger mirrored in you. That staring it in the face felt too harrowing, too raw. 

The longer he thinks about it the more pieces slot together in his brain. Your cruel words hurled at anyone who sets you on edge. Your inability to follow any direction that isn’t forced. The self-isolation, the distrust in even those you love most. That animalistic fight in you, flight and freeze be damned. The need to protect others before yourself—Joel, Ellie, Miley, even Maria.

You don’t deserve to live like this. Don't deserve eternal damnation or to experience the wrath of God for the monstrous things you result to when you feel all else is lost. Violence is the only thing that has never turned its back on you.

Joel’s melancholy manifests, a single tear sliding down his cheek. You’re just a little girl and it's not fucking fair. 

He doesn’t want this for you. He wants you to live a full, happy, peaceful life. Not one spent out here chasing ghosts, trying to find your worth in providing for others. He wants you to be protected, to know you’re loved even when you lash out, wants you to know that he understands. Joel wants to be that for you. Wants to be the unwavering support you deserve, wants to be the thing that pulls you back from that ledge you’re dancing upon. Joel wants to be for you what he needed in the darkest part of his rage.

But to do that, you’re going to have to relinquish a little more of that control you hold so tightly.

When you wake, it’s gradual. You don’t startle or flinch at the blood on his hands. But your eyes linger there on the red stain for some time before you ask, “All of them?”

Joel nods once. “All of them.” 

And then you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him, pressing your mouth to his, thanking him in the only way you know how. Your tongue tastes like sleep and ambrosia and sunlight, but when Joel cradles your face in his hands he leaves blood in the wake of his fingertips. The bright red is a stark contrast against the smoothness of your skin, the violence an antithesis to your innocence.

He slides his bloody hands into your hair when your hips begin to move. His cock hardens quickly as his body catches up with your intent, always needy and eager, always just waiting to join you in more than just soul.

While he unbuttons his jeans and slides his zipper down to pull his erection out, your mouth never leaves his. Even when you shove those too-tight jeans down your thighs just enough to make room for him. When you lift up on your knees and sink down onto his cock in one familiarized movement he can feel the vibration of your moan against his tongue, can feel the breath of air from your gasp as he settles in deep.

The stretch is blissfully painful, stinging in all the right ways. You rock your hips slowly at first, adjusting to the sheer size of him, adjusting to his all-encompassing warmth. Your fingers dig into his thick shoulders, desperate to keep your balance.

And then you lift just enough to come slamming back down, the friction setting his skin ablaze. Again, again, again —it’s hurried and needy and depraved. Your hips move fervently over his, seeking out what you know only he can provide.

Your eyes are squeezed shut when you pull your sweet mouth away from his. Joel watches you lean back and place your hands on his thighs for support, back arching, and somehow he finds himself even deeper inside you. You’re moaning and his breath is coming fast and he thinks you look more than just angelic from this angle. He watches you ride his cock and wonders if you were fucking made to do this. 

Cheeks flushed, lips parted, his name on your lips. Is this what Eve saw in the waxy reflection of the forbidden fruit? Is this what she saw when she knowingly abandoned paradise? 

Joel thinks it can’t get much better than this. Thinks the only thing that’s ever come close is the feeling of blood on his hands in the name of those he loves, in the name of you.

He wraps his hand around your throat, staining you even further red, and says, “I’d do anything for you. Anything .” 

He thinks about the Ten Commandments, about how he can cross off every single one of them with just this act alone. 

You shall have no other Gods before me. 

No divine being has made him feel like this. No divinity has ever reached up through his ribs and squeezed a fist around his heart. Not like you have. 

You shall make no idols. 

He thinks about the way you look in his canvas coat. Joel has found his own form of peace through you, has found forgiveness beneath your tongue. 

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. 

Your pace quickens. The obscene, wet sounds coming from the place you’re joined echo in the walls of the church. “Oh my God, Joel, I’m—I’m close.”

He knows you are. Can feel it in the way your pussy squeezes him like a vise, in the way your rhythm becomes sloppy and desperate.

Keep the Sabbath day holy. 

Joel doesn’t know what day it is. But he knows he wishes he could stay here in this home you’ve made together within the bones of an old religion, wishes he could stay inside you. He doesn’t know if there’s anything more unholy than this insatiable desire.

Honor your father and mother.

He thinks about that day in the dining hall when embarrassment climbed Maria’s cheeks as you screamed in her face. Joel thinks she deserved it more than he realized that day. He thinks about the way you spoke to him in that watchtower, thinks about the way he’d had to drag you there by your hair, all while listening to every disrespectful thing that came out of your mouth and how a few short weeks later you got down on your knees and called him daddy. 

You shall not murder. 

He takes the hand wrapped around your throat and flattens it against your sternum. The blood is drying but still marks your skin in the shape of his fingerprints.

You shall not commit adultery.

Joel knows he’s supposed to be with a lovely, soft-spoken, age-appropriate woman but knows, too, that death would be kinder than the loss of you. 

You shall not steal. 

He was angry at first, about the strawberry scone. Mike’s wife is a kind woman who spends her time baking for the community. But Ellie likely never would’ve had the opportunity to try it had you not nicked the pastry. If it was always going to lead the two of you here, together, Joel would have stolen every last scone on God’s green earth. 

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. 

Lying seems a small price to pay for you, for your safety. He remembers telling Greg and Bonnie that you were running late the night you left him in the watchtower alone. He wanted to keep you safe then even without noticing that’s what he was doing. Safe from ridicule, from judgment. 

You shall not covet. 

He recalls seeing Abel’s hands on you, seeing his lips against your hair in a chaste kiss. Joel had wanted to kill him then, for touching what was his. He knows by taking you for his own, he’s taking you away from someone like Abel. Someone with a little more moral in their heart, a little less blood on their hands. But he doesn’t care because you’re his now and always. 

Joel lifts his hips in tandem with yours, meeting each stroke, thrusting his cock even deeper inside you. Your legs begin to shake around his and Joel thinks damnation isn’t so bad. “Anything,” he repeats. “Lie, cheat, steal.” His hand on your chest slides up again, wrapping tight around your throat. “I’d kill for you, little girl.”

Your pussy flutters around him and your spine bends in the most beautiful arch he’s ever seen. It solidifies his belief in one very important thing, the last nail in the coffin that cements the two of you together eternally.

This filthy, sinful devotion is cosmic. Celestial. Unearthly. So much more than a bible and cross. 

It’s worth it. It’s worth everything. 

“You like that? Hm?” Your rhythm falters but his remains steady. “Like that I’d spill blood for you, s’that it? That’s what got you all wet, sweetheart?” Your moans turn saccharine— sacrilegious. “Pretty pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, baby. Such a messy thing. I’d kill anyone for my little girl. Anyone .”

“Joel, I—!” 

He knows, he knows. Because he is, too. “Yeah, thaaaat’s it,” he says, drawing out each syllable. Your hands squeeze hard around his thighs and your muscles draw tight. “There you go, baby. Cum for me. That’s it. Sweet fuckin’ girl. Gonna fill you up. That what you want?”

You rasp out his name and the words yes, please, please, and it sounds like a fucking prayer. It’s a hypnotic litany. It makes him feel cherished, adored. And the sound of it spoken in worship in the house of God sends him over the edge. 

Even though your legs tremble around his, you ride his cock relentlessly. Joel’s vision goes white and his hand on your hip squeezes tight enough to bruise. You feel so good, so warm and wet. You lift your hips and slam them back down until the oversensitivity becomes more than he can bear. His hand abandons the home it’s made around your throat and finds the small of your back instead, stilling you completely.

You lean forward, collapsing with your hands pressed against his chest. Joel wraps his arms around your middle and cradles you in his lap, all too aware of the divinity he holds in his hands. He presses a kiss to your temple and listens to your heavy breaths.

Some time passes. He’s not sure how long the two of you sit there with Joel still wedged deep inside you, basking in the afterglow. The sun rises outside and the songbirds of the morning begin to sing. 

Eventually, you lift your head and whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Joel doesn’t understand. He’s stolen something he was undeserving of, only to be loved back. If anyone should be thankful, it should be him. 

It feels like a punch to the gut when you say, “For seeing me.”

Because he now knows no one else ever has. No one has ever seen your defiance as anything but a nuisance, has never seen you as more than a troublemaker, as a bad omen.  

But Joel does see you. He sees right through all that savage fight to the little girl beneath, that soft, childish innocence you keep under heavy guard. He thinks he’s been able to see through it since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s her he wants to protect.

Joel takes your chin in his hand and makes you a commandment of his own. “I will always see you.”

[part seven] [part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

let me know if you want to be added! thank you to everyone for all the insane support on this <3

[masterist]

[rosemaidenvixen]

Between Daylight and Darkness

Chapter 4

<Previous Next>

Ao3

“You kids sure you’ll be ok?”

Jim waved her off as the others shuffled out of the car “It’ll be fine, we’ll stay close to the canal and I’ll text you every hour,”

Barbara’s worried expression didn’t ease, but she turned back and straightened up in the driver’s seat “Ok, I trust you. Let me know if you find anything and I’ll see you in a few hours,”

Jim pulled his hood up over his horns, nodding with a confidence he didn’t quite feel but knew his mom needed to see “Alright, see you then,”

She gave him a single nod in return before pulling away back down the access road, turning a corner and being swallowed up by trees, the glint of the headlights the only thing visible in the evening gloom.

Turning away, Jim walked to the edge of the canal and slid to the bottom, where the rest of them were already waiting. The sun had set just over twenty minutes ago, the light was dim and fading fast, but the streetlights lining the canal provided just enough light to see each other and their surroundings, at least for now.

“Ok guys how should we do this? Stay together or split up to cover more ground?”

Darci rolled her eyes “Uh, stay together, obviously, I’m not getting ax murdered,”

“Sounds good, but I’m pretty sure I can take some redneck with an ax,”

Mary snickered “Oh we’re gonna hold you to that,”

They all shared a soft chuckle. Claire was the first one to stop, glancing over his shoulder, smile dropping off and gaze turning contemplative as she stared down the canal “We’re at the north intersection now, let’s head south. If we don’t find anything we can start here again tomorrow heading north,”

“Sounds like a plan,” Toby jogged ahead and took point as the five of them started walking down the concrete corridor “Let’s spread out and walk in a line, cover as much ground as possible, but stay close for aforementioned ax-murderer related reasons,”

Jim forced a smile at that as they headed down the canal, scanning the concrete as they went, but the expression didn’t sit well on his face. All things considered they were off to a good start; traffic was low, no issues getting here. Everyone was in a good mood cracking jokes and ribbing each other like usual. But none of it did anything to dispel the tightness he felt deep in his gut.

It had been five days since he’d found the not-pocket watch, and they were no closer to any real answers. The best lead they had was Eli’s claims of monsters with stone for skin fighting right where Jim had found the watch a few short hours later. Hence the five of them spending their Friday night scouring the canal for clues.

But did Eli really see what he claimed he did? Were there really others out there like Jim? How did the watch play into things?

None of them knew, but if there were any answers in the canal they’d find them.

Jim didn’t know what was stressing him out more, the thought that they wouldn’t find any answers here, or that they might actually find something–

A car rumbled along the road above them, startling Jim out of his thoughts. He suppressed a shudder and pulled his hood down further over his face. He was used to his blue nocturnal form, and frequent camping trips kept him from becoming completely neurotic, but being outside so close to a city at night felt…weird.

The usual smells and sounds were here, trees and dirt, birds and insects; but they were buried underneath a cacophony of other senses. The roar of traffic, the stink of diesel and pollution. The contrast was jarring and had been riling him up ever since he got out of the ca–

Jim stopped dead in his tracks, head snapping around to stare into the trees above them.

“What’s up Jimbo?”

“I– I don’t know, I think I…smell something,”

Claire stepped up to his side “Smell what?”

“I’m…not sure, it’s familiar but like, it doesn’t…belong here,”

“Well then let’s check it out,” Mary propped a single sneaker on the angled side of the canal, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of them “This is why we came out here right? To investigate things, so let’s get investigating,”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Claire started scaling the canal right behind her, Darci and Toby following on her heels.

Toby paused and looked back “Everything ok Jimbo?”

“Oh! Yeah– I’m coming,”

Soon the five of them were standing at the edge of the woods alongside the canal. Jim shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath through his nose “Whatever it is, it’s close,”

“Lead the way then,” Claire sided up next to him “We’re following your super senses,”

“R– right,” 

Jim forced himself to pick up his feet and follow the strange scent into the woods, keenly aware of the four smaller sets of footsteps trailing him. Trading the open glow of streetlights on cement to the deep gloom of the woods, unease deepening in his gut with every step.

He’d been on edge ever since they got here, but for some reason this new smell was putting his anxiety into overdrive. He had no idea why, it wasn’t a bad smell, in fact it was familiar in a way he just couldn’t put his finger on, but with something else clinging to it. The combination tripping alarm bells in his head.

They needed to push ahead, this was the best lead they’d found and as nervous as he was his drive for answers was still stronger than his unease. 

Reflexively Jim pulled his hood down even further, fabric hanging down directly in his fa–

He stopped dead in his tracks, making the others stumble to a halt behind him.

Darci stepped around him “Everything ok?”

“Guys I think I might know what this is, it smells kind of like…me,”

“That’s great!” she beamed up at him “If there’s someone else like you out there we can ask them for answers,”

“Sure…yeah,”

“Well what are we waiting for!” Toby eagerly rushed ahead “Let’s go! We’ve got a fellow were-gargoyle to meet!” 

The others all sped up, Jim had to fight from breaking into a run as he lengthened his strides to take the lead.Some murky, innate need in the back of his head demanding that he place himself between his friends and the strange scent as they headed deeper into the trees. Ice prickling up his spine, fur on his neck and back standing on end.

His sense of smell was sharper when he was blue but not so sharp that he could identify people by scent alone. In general people all smelled more or less the same. The way he could tell them apart is by what other scents accompanied them.

Mom smelled like person plus disinfectant.

Toby smelled like person plus cat.

Claire smelled like person plus gardenia shampoo.

By the same note the scent he was following was the same as the scent that clung to Jim’s clothes and bedsheets, but with a heavy, almost sweet note to it that Jim’s own scent was missing. Raising his hackles and sending adrenaline shooting through him for reasons he couldn’t understand–

A rattling sound was the only warning he got before the watch flew out of his pocket, slamming into his chest with the armor materializing in a bright flash.

The others all started, but Jim just shook his head “Forget it, let’s just keep going,”

They had to be in the open space by now, the only light came from the glow of his armor and civilization might as well be miles away. The strange scent was almost overpowering now, leading him to a gap in the trees–

He stopped dead in his tracks, every speck of air knocked from his lungs. Jim was vaguely aware of the others stumbling into him from behind, letting out their own gasps of shock, but all that seemed distant and unimportant compared to what laid directly ahead of him.

Less than twelve feet ahead of them, sitting in a large clearing, there was a creature made of black stone, just like Jim was made of blue, but that was where the similarities ended. This creature was massive, easily eight feet tall, maybe more. Broad and bulky with muscles so well defined they looked carved.

And for all Jim knew they very well might have been.

In place of any kind of normal clothing this creature wore a leather kilt, straps across their chest. A mane of shaggy, black hair ran down the creature’s back–

From out of nowhere the creature whirled on them, piercing the five of them with searingly red eyes, the only trace of color on its body. Jagged tusks poked out of the creature’s mouth, dark horns curling down on either side of it’s– his? Face. His gaze glowing through the trees.

For a moment no one moved. The six of them all appraising each other. 

Toby shifted from foot to foot, giving a little wave “Uh…hello? How’s it going?”

The creature’s mouth pulled into a wide grin, exposing a mouthful of large, crooked teeth accompanying his tusks. Rising to his full height, level with the smaller trees, taking easy strides towards them.

“Finally, my search is at an end,” the creature’s voice was low and gravely, easily carrying across the clearing.

Jim flinched at being addressed “Wha–”

A metallic shing echoed through the clearing as the creature reached above his back, metal glinting as he pulled something free “You have two choices Trollhunter. Surrender the amulet and I will allow you the honor of watching Gunmar rise to his full glory. Refuse me and perish,”

Jim blinked, and the object came into focus. It was a sword, pointed directly at the five of them.

The ringing alarm bells in his head started screaming.

It was at this moment that Jim realized the mysterious note clinging to this creature’s scent.

Rotting meat.

“Run,”

“Wha–”

“Guys run!”

The creature lunged towards them with a roar, the five of the shrieking and scrambling out of the way. All ove Jim’s senses were working in overdrive. He could hear every twig snapping, see every twitch of a limb, as the red eyed creature charged.

In that moment Jim forgot about the watch, his blue form, where he was and what he was doing. Everything. The only thing he knew was that if he didn’t get away they were all going to die–

Jim leapt to the side, snagging Mary and Claire under his arm and out of the creature's path the second before his blade came down. Leaping back again and grabbing Toby and Darci with his other arm. Heartbeat booming in his ears, Jim forced himself to turn his back on the creature as he pivoted around and started sprinting as fast as he could, not even paying attention to which way he was going in his desperate goal to get away–

The creature roared behind him, further away now but still far too close. Branches snapping and cracking as he pursued them. Spurring Jim to push his legs even faster.

Jim didn’t think he just ran. Racing through the trees with all his might, ducking and dodging past trees at the last second, keeping a tight grip on the others, near manic in his desperation to create distance between them and the creature. 

His panicked energy seemed boundless, the weight of the others in his arms barely registered. Jim could run with them all the way to Nevada if he had to. But while their weight barely registered four people was a lot to carry, arms and legs flopping all over the place. And he could only hold them so tight without hurting them, and as he continued to run he could feel someone start to slip.

Even though everything in him was screaming to keep going, Jim forced his legs to stagger to a stop and released them. The four tumbling free and wobbling on their feet.

Toby panted, shooting a frantic look back through the trees “What the actual fuck was that thing!?”

“I…I don’t know,” Claire turned towards Jim “Do you…?”

“No I have absolutely no clue what that thing was,”

“Well whatever it was, we need to–”

“Greetings!”

Jim’s heart shot up into his throat, rushing forward and planting himself in front of the others as the four of them screamed and staggered back.

Another creature stepped through the trees towards them. This one was smaller, but somehow even less human. Head was larger, too many eyes, too many arms. Blue instead of black, suspenders instead of a kilt. Scent of paper and dust clinging to him as opposed to decaying meat.

The creature’s eyes landed on Jim, who couldn’t help but flinch, their mouth breaking into a wide grin “Alas we’ve found you! AAARRRGGHH come hither!”

Heavy footsteps thudded through the forest ahead. Jim whipped his head up to see another creature pushing through the trees, his already hammering heartbeat skyrocketing.

This one was huge, just as big as the first creature they saw, maybe bigger. Lurching through the trees on all fours, making Jim think of a gorilla. No clothes, just a shaggy green mane over a gray stony body.

Somehow Jim still managed to hear the others shriek and stagger back over the roaring in his ears. Jim took a step back, arms spread wide and twitching, getting ready to tuck the others back under his arms and book it the second they had a chance.

But before he could move the many eyed creature’s expression turned to concern, holding up four hands.

“Oh there’s no need to panic, me and my companion mean you no harm,”

“Yeah right,” Mary spat.

“It true,” the big creature rumbled out “Us friends,”   

“Yes you can count us among your allies Trollhunter,”

It took Jim a second to register the word many eyes used.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Many-eyes’ smile got even wider “We have been searching for you for quite some time Trollhunter,” he raised a finger to point at Jim–

No, not at Jim, at the amulet embedded in his chest.

Jim’s brain was still playing catch up “Wait wait wait, you’re saying I’m a….Troll Hunter?”

Many-eyes blinked, all six of his eyes, before letting out a sharp laugh “Quite a sense of humor on yo–”

A roar sounded in the distance, but far too close for comfort, causing all of them, including the newcomers, to jump.

“Leave now, explain later,” the big one rumbled.

“Right you are AAARRRGGHH. Come young Trollhunter, we can provide shelter for you and your companions,”

“Ummm…question,” Toby piped up, voice a full octave higher than normal “How do we know that you aren’t just luring us into a false sense of security to take us to your lair to eat us later?” 

“Have no fear, my companion and I have taken oaths to never partake in human flesh,”

“Yeah, not good eno–”

Another roar, far too close now.

“We really gotta pick and choose here guys,” Darci said shrilly, bouncing from foot to foot and glancing through the trees anxiously.

Jim forced back his jitters and turned towards many-eyes “This place you’re talking about, it’ll be safe, from…him?”

Many eyes nodded “You have my word that you and your companions will be protected from all harm,”

“Ok, take us there,”

“Quickly then, right this way,” 

Many eyes and big guy led the five of them through the woods. Jim had lost all sense of direction by this point, but soon enough they broke through the trees back at the canal, scrambling down the side, the two strangers heading towards the main bridge.

“This is the safe place you were talking about!?” Claire said incredulously.

“Not quite, this is but the gateway to our sanctu–”

A whooshing sound in his ear and rush of air was all the warning Jim got before something rammed into his side, sending him flying through the air to slam into the side of the canal.

His head was spinning, a low wheeze escaping his chest, Jim somehow managed to determine which direction was upright and push himself up. He blinked to clear his vision only to have the breath freeze in his chest.

The large red eyed creature stood in the bottom of the canal, stalking towards him with a sword in each hand. Behind him Jim could see his friends standing back near the bridge, looking at him wide eyed and terrified.

Head still spinning, he put his feet underneath him and forced himself to stand. Spotting cracks in the concrete underneath him, Jim put several things together at once. 

This big creature had punched him with enough force to crack concrete. But Jim wasn’t hurt, not really. Due to his stone skin or the armor or maybe a bit of both Jim had just gotten the wind knocked out of him.

But such a move would kill one of his fleshy, unarmored friends in an instant.

His vision was still swimming and his heart hammering so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if red eyes could hear it, but in that moment Jim made an ironclad decision.

Even though every instinct in his body was screaming at him to run, Jim reached back and pulled the sword off his back.

“Guys go!” he waved at them with his free arm “Get somewhere safe while I hold him off,”

He could hear them screaming even as his field of vision became filled by red eyes charging towards him, glowing gaze locked on Jim. He didn’t care about the others, he was completely focused on Jim. Good. He could distract it while they got to the safe place.

Those thoughts kept his feet rooted to the ground, but did do anything to abate the gut curdling terror sweeping through him as the creature swung a blade down towards him.

Jim swung his own sword up, blade meeting blade with a deafening clang, but not so loud he couldn’t hear the others.

“Jim!”

“Quickly into the doorway–”

“We can’t just leave him!”

“He’ll stand a better chance without you now go–”

For a moment a trill of relief filled him, then red eyes leaned forward, pushing his blade down and forcing Jim back, fanged mouth pulled into a savage grin, and every drop of relief vanished. 

Quick as a flash, red eyes pulled his blade away and brought the other one down, forcing Jim to sloppily parry. His entire focus swallowed up by deflecting the larger creature's blows.

Jim didn’t know anything about sword fighting, but he knew a bit about knives, and had experience handling several kinds. He was no Michelin chef, but he liked to think his skill was a bit above average. A sword wasn’t a chef’s knife, but applying what he knew about blades Jim managed to keep a decent hold on his sword, using his practiced speed and efficiency to deflect red eyes’ strikes.

Jim was blocking every single blow, but despite this a deepening sense of dread pooled in his gut.

He was blocking the creature’s blows, but only barely. Red eyes was bigger than him with a much longer reach, and a lot stronger to, and Jim felt every blocked blow stinging in his joints. Without even realizing it he’d taken several steps back in a futile attempt to lessen the impacts. It was only a matter of time before he was pinned between the red eyes and the side of the canal.

And Jim was no swordsman, but something about red eyes’ movements seemed…sloppy. Almost lazy in the way he was battering at Jim with his swords, eyes gleaming over a toothy grin.

Jim was giving his all and barely able to keep his footing, but red eyes was just playing with him.

Frantic, Jim jumped back at an angle, to try and get more open space at his back and avoid being pinned. He was successful but opened himself up for a backhanded blow from red eyes, sending him sailing down the canal, armor screeching against the concrete as he slid to a stop.

He scrambled back upright, panicked and dizzy. Sloppy as it had been he had been successful at building space between him and red eyes. But now he had to scramble out of the way as he rushed towards him with startling speed.

“Over here! This way!” Jim snapped his head around, spotting many eyes standing under the bridge near the canal wall, only now there was a glowing portal in the side of the canal leading to subterranean spaces unknown.

Jim didn’t question where it led or even how such a thing was possible. He just ran. Sprinting towards the portal with all his might, knowing that his only chance of survival was under the bridge.

His feet slammed into the concrete again and again, maybe even hard enough to crack it. Not that Jim slowed down to check, not even daring to look back at the thuds of red eyes in hot pursuit, roaring far too close for comfort. 

The gateway was getting closer, but so was his pursuer. And Jim didn’t know who was going to reach their goal first.

Almost there almost there almost there–

Jim leapt through the portal, yellow streetlights giving way to a cool blue. The change in scenery barely registered, Jim keeping up his breakneck speed as he raced through the space. Rushing ahead even as the ground underneath him turned into a large set of steps. Big guy and many-eyes’ shouts from behind him drowned out by the roaring in his ears as he scrambled deeper and deeper into the earth.

Eventually he stumbled off the last stair, the shock making him stagger and slow down for the first time. Jim leaned against the rock wall at his side, panting, frantically looking around for a trace of his fr–

Jim froze.

A wide space opened up in front of him, easily the size of at least two football fields, maybe three, maybe more. Various buildings and structures carved out of bedrock filled the massive cavern, but all that he noticed second.

Dozens of creatures milled around; black, blue, green, red– every shade of the rainbow. Some with two eyes, some with five, some with just one. Horns of all shapes and sizes. Kilts and trousers and suspenders and more than a few forgoing all clothes. Some of the creatures were Jim’s size, some of them were nearly as large as many eyes’ friend. But all of them were the same in that they were made of stone.

Just like the red eyed creature.

Just like many-eyes and big guy.

Just like Jim–

One creature, red skin with a unicorn-like horn above a single large eye did a double take as their cyclopean gaze rolled over Jim, stopping whatever they had been doing to turn and stare at Jim fully. Jim wincing back at the scrutiny.

Cyclop’s jaw dropped open, his single eye widening “The Trollhunter is here!” they bellowed.

Just like that every creature stopped what they were doing and turned. Every eye in the cavern now on Jim.

The crowd surged towards him, Jim shrinking back as the creatures approached en masse. All of them were shouting, speaking over each other to the extent Jim couldn’t pick out what they were saying, but there was one word he heard repeated again and again.

The same word both red eyes and many eyes had used.

“–Trollhunter!”

“Trollhunter!?”

“Trollhunter–”

Jim could barely breathe, the tightness in his chest choking him. Creatures– people? So many of them. Staring at him, surrounding him, the crush of bodies nearly suffocating. His heartbeat and breathing picking up faster and faster. He needed more air than his body could give him. So many people looking at him, seeing him. Creatures just like him–

It was too all much. Adrenaline surging Jim broke free and ran. Shoving stony bodies out of his way heedless of shouts and squawked protests. Finally breaking free of the crowd and racing deeper into the cavern. Desperate to get away from here–

But no matter how fast he ran he couldn’t escape the cries of ‘Trollhunter’ chasing after him, ringing in his ears long after he’d left the crowd behind.

[aftgficrec]

My favorite fics are soft andriel, and teen andriel.

Here’s my recs:

Raised on little light by maqicien

Falling is a lot like drowning by chaoticas_hell

This wasn’t in the prophecy (series) by Arirmis

(Account locked) Raise me up so you can watch me fall by Yes_No_ofcourse

And this last one is angst and dark but I do love it

Hiding scars under exy gear By rinz

Wow, that’s a lot of recs in one submission!  Usually we just get one or two 🤣. - S

You can find some of those fics here:

‘Raised on Little Light’ here (since updated)

‘Falling Is A Lot Like Drowning’ here (since updated)

‘Raise me up so you can watch me fall’ here (locked, now complete)

This wasn’t in the prophecy by Arirmis [Rated T/M, 73294 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2024]

Percy Jackson AU where all of the foxes are demigods, Andrew meets Neil shortly after his mom dies, and joins him on the run instead of going back to camp. Part one spans from their first meeting to their first kiss; Part two will take place a few years later, when certain circumstances force them to return to camp, and Andrew has to deal with what he left behind, on top of their current problem. While both fics should be able to be read individually, it does make more sense if you read them in order :)

Part 1:  Cross your fingers, here we go (T, 25037 words, complete)

Millport is a horrible, dry as fuck little town in the vast nothingness of the dust hole that is Arizona, and Andrew hates it with vigor.  He has been tracking a horde of Manticores for weeks now, and isn’t that something? A half-blood having to chase after the monsters. He is starting to feel like one of Renee’s hunters, when Andrew is pretty sure the nasty scorpion-cats should want to kill him more then he wants to kill them.  Or, Andrew expected to find all sorts of things on his first quest. He didn’t expect a twitchy, blue-eyed half-blood with monsters on his heels, and he surely didn’t expect to fall in love with him.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: child neglect, tw: assumed character death

Part 2: Mortal Bodies, Timeless Souls (M, 48257 words, incomplete)

„Minyard! Get your ass up and put some armor on! Abby, Greene, get the infirmary in shape, border control just spotted a motherfucking Drakon in the woods!“ As if Wymack’s order triggered it, a ear grating screech echoes all the way to the big house. The camp counselor curses. „Move it people, there are half-bloods out there that need to get to safety!“  Or, for two and a half years, Aaron has been grieving the brother he buried, only to learn now, that Andrew is very much alive. He also has a scarred little shithead in tow, that Aaron wants to punch in the face regularily. Life is fun like that.

tw: blood, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: child neglect, tw: assumed character death, tw: vomit

Hiding scars (under exy gear) by rinz [Rated M, 34309 words, incomplete, last updated March 2024]

Juggling a mobster serial killer household and high school is harder than Neil had anticipated. and that goth kid on the roof really needs to mind his own business. OR a high school AU where neil and mary never run from nathan and neil meets the foxes in private high school instead.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: imlied/referenced torture, tw: graphic violence

[joysmercer]

post-season 3

Terri will freely admit that she wasn’t overly enthusiastic about her daughter suddenly deciding (with less than a month’s notice) to spend two weeks of summer at a camp run by her boyfriend and otherwise minimal adult supervision. Yes, a lot of it was because she (selfishly) wanted her daughter to spend that time with her after not being together for half a year, but she was also concerned on a more general level: across the country with no cell phones? The summer before her junior year? Terri would much rather she stay home, focus on SAT prep if anything, and prepare for her future—not go to some theatre workshop where she’s unlikely to learn anything of value. 

It did help to find out that Gina has been cast as the lead in the first-ever stage production of a wildly popular Disney movie and will also be starring in the associated documentary. This is a novel experience, can go on her college apps and résumé, and really, who is she to judge when all expenses are paid in exchange for signing a few release forms? 

Still, she misses the days she could hear about each rehearsal straight from the source instead of random teasers dropped on the Disney+ twitter account, and she especially hates that she has to work and miss Gina’s big debut. By the time intermission is called on the livestream, Terri (ever-so-grateful for the weekend off) is already en-route to California. 

Terri pulls into the Shallow Lake parking lot and spots Gina immediately among the throng of campers checking out and saying their goodbyes. She’s grown at least an inch, Terri realizes with a jolt. Gina is nearly seventeen now, on the brink of adulthood, and the way she’s carrying herself now demonstrates a demeanor entirely different from the teenager she’d dropped off at MSY just a few months ago. Why does time always move so fast with these kids? 

Gina whips around as soon as Terri slams the car door shut, as if she was able to hear it from all the way across the yard, letting out a loud squeal of delight that sends Terri’s heart melting before launching herself straight into her mother’s arms. Terri is instantly reminded of a five-year-old Gina doing the exact same thing at kindergarten pickup.

“Hey, sweet pea,” she whispers, returning her daughter’s tight hug. Some things never change. 

“Mom? What are you even doing here? I thought you were closing on the house? Oh my god, I had no idea—"

“I finished all that yesterday, and since I have a free weekend, I thought we could take a mother-daughter road-trip back home – just like old times.” While their last few moves had been too far apart to drive, she and Gina used to spent nearly every school holiday or long weekend transporting their lives across state lines while eating their fill of fast food and pancakes, touring random obscure roadside attractions, and making some of their fondest memories. 

Gina beams. “I’d love that,” she says, bouncing on her heels excitedly. “I finished packing, actually, so I just need to take care of one thing real quick and we can head out.”

Then she smiles big and wide again, an expression she saves for truly special occasions (like, apparently, 10 hours with her mother in a car), and quickly kisses Terri’s cheek. “Love you, mommy. Be back in a bit.” 

Gina sprints off in the direction of, according to a nearby sign, a “Yurt Locker”. Strange name, Terri thinks. She doesn’t have a chance muse on it (or what the hell it even means) further, though, because someone bellows GENEVIEVE MARIE! so loudly that both Gina and Terri, now at least 20 feet apart, jump at the sound. 

The source of the voice appears a second later—or at least Terri assumes that’s who the curly-haired boy with a shit-eating grin on his face now standing in front of Gina is, given her daughter’s currently crossed arms, flushed cheeks, and, surprisingly, equally playful smile. Terri eyes the boy curiously. Gina doesn’t give out her full name to just anyone and rarely allows anyone to use it (Terri can’t remember the last time she herself even said the word Genevieve, let alone added her middle name to the mix). But Gina seems entirely unfazed now, as if having this boy yell it for all to hear is a regular occurrence. Who is he?

Then she notices the acoustic guitar he’s clutching, and it hits her. Kristoff: Ricky Bowen.

It had been a while since Gina had mentioned Ricky in their weekly FaceTimes. His name had only ever come up in relation to Ashlen’s role of Belle in the spring musical, and even then, it was mostly to complain about his two left feet. If it weren’t for a panicked text conversation on Valentine’s Day (Gina’s teddy bear got lost in transit, long story), Terri would have entirely forgotten about him.

Clearly, not only has his dancing greatly improved this summer (if yesterday was any evidence), but so has his friendship with her daughter.  

Ricky pulls out a set of keys and gestures to the parking lot, fanning his face with his free hand, and that’s when Terri realizes he’s wearing…a pink-and-blue snowsuit. Gina laughs and rolls her eyes at him, clearly teasing him about his ridiculous attire for an LA summer, but when he says something else, Gina suddenly shakes her head, pointing straight at Terri. 

Terri gives a small wave to the kids, and Ricky immediately waves back excitedly.  Okay, then. 

Turning back to Gina, Ricky says something else and Gina smiles shyly and nods. Terri watches as the pair hugs goodbye, a motion that is simultaneously so natural neither think twice about it—falling into a tight embrace that nearly lifts Gina off the ground—but so awkward when they separate that Terri can feel the tension from all the way over here. Okay, then, indeed. 

Ricky meanders toward the bright orange bug almost double-parked in the last slot of the lot. Terri recognizes the car from her driveway last fall – but also remembers Gina mentioning that Ashlen’s boyfriend also drives an orange bug that the three of them and EJ would carpool to school in, leaving Terri to wonder which possibility is weirder: that Ricky and his friend got matching ugly vehicles together, or that Ricky transported his friend’s car across state lines for two weeks and his friend actually agreed to it. 

There isn’t much she knows about Ricky Bowen, actually, except that he has an apparent penchant for nabbing lead roles out from under everyone else’s noses and—surprisingly—actually justifying those casting choices. Gina’s scene partners are often so dry she has to work double-time to make the chemistry believable. Last night, however, Ricky showed a level of talent that nearly matched her own daughter’s in the way he was able to hold the audience captive even without Gina on stage with him. There was one solo of his in particular that had actually caught Terri’s attention (she had taken the opportunity to answer some emails) when, right at the end, he suddenly directed the final line of the song away from the audience and into the wings: you’re what I know about love, he sang, straight to Ana. Straight to Gina. It was not only a genius move but one she doubted he was directed to do—he must have come up with it himself. 

Still, something about him sets Terri on edge. Questionable decisions (seriously, snowsuit?) aside, he has the demeanor of a class clown, someone who stays while it’s fun but bolts when things get hard. It makes Terri uneasy, especially since it’s clear that this is someone Gina cares deeply about. 

“Sorry about that.” Gina’s back, suitcases in hand, shaking Terri out of her reverie. “I had to tell Ricky I didn’t need a ride first.” 

“Oh, I thought EJ was giving you a ride home,” Terri says, taking one of the suitcases from Gina. 

A tense silence. “Mom, I told you we broke up, remember?” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Terri quickly assures her. Gina had called early yesterday morning from Kourtney’s phone, relating the news with a quick “it was a long time coming, we’re still friends, prom was super fun otherwise, see you soon” and hanging up before Terri could even get an I’m sorry out. “I just assumed you’d keep the same arrangement since Ashlen and your other friends are there, too.” She winces. “I see how silly that sounds out loud, though.” 

“Yeah.” More silence. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Terri asks gently. 

Gina shakes her head no emphatically. “I told you, it wasn’t really a surprise. I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay, got the hint.” Terri laughs, sighing internally with relief when Gina gives her a (albeit watery) smile. She opens the car trunk and shoves the suitcase inside.

“So, why was Ricky wearing a snowsuit?” Terri asks as they settle in and buckle up, unable to keep the question to herself any longer. 

“Oh, he wasn’t supposed to be at camp at all, and showed up without a ton of clothes, so he mostly borrowed from others I think, and got pizza all over his laundry yesterday, too.” she giggles slightly, then continues, “plus the guys dumped ice water on themselves last night and he put is wet towel on top of his open suitcase, like an idiot.” She says all this with the nonchalance of someone explaining 1+1=2, not…whatever she just said about sudden enrollment, pizza, and ice water. 

“That doesn’t explain the snowsuit,” Terri says, now even more confused. 

“Rumor has it he was supposed to go skiing with his ex? he didn’t say, though." Gina shrugs. 

“that girl Jamie’s working with?” 

“No.” Gina doesn’t elaborate. 

“Well, regardless, he’s very talented,” Terri supplies. “I did enjoy that one ballad of his yesterday, the one with the guitar and lights.” 

“Oh.” Gina smiles softly, almost to herself. “I liked that one too.” 

Terri’s stomach twists, like they’re about to go barreling off a cliff they can’t see and can’t stop. 

“Is he doing the fall musical as well?”

“I dunno. Probably. It’s his senior year, he won’t have many more chances.” 

“I didn’t realize he’s a year ahead of you,” Terri says, surprised. “How are his college apps coming along?”

“Mom,” Gina groans. “It’s literally summer vacation, and believe it or not, I didn’t ask. He probably hasn’t even started thinking about them yet.” 

“Fair,” Terri says, although, internally, she disagrees. if Ricky were truly serious about his future, he would have had his summer plans set in place long ago, and a solid school list by now. 

I can tell you like him, Gigi, she thinks. And then, suddenly, I wish you didn’t. 

It’s a strange thought, and a foreign one—Gina has yet to make a friend that Terri straight-up disapproves of.  What Ricky does with his life is really none of her business, and Gina’s a smart girl—she won’t go rushing into poor decisions even if her friends are walking bundles of chaos. Plus, from the little she’s seen, it’s clear he cares about Gina, too. Maybe as much as she does him. 

But Gina in a relationship is…different. Gina in a relationship was more carefree, a little less focused. She begged to go to prom despite having an exam the next Monday, she shifted her summer plans around for a camp she showed no interest in before, and she prioritized FaceTimes and texting every night over reading or sleeping. there were no lasting negative repercussions for any of this, but if there was ever a time for Gina to conserve her extra energy for something worthwhile, it’s now. 

Ricky a good friend, Terri decides. As friends, he keeps her grounded—but anything more than that? She’s just not sure. 

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part One: The Beginning

Sally is Mary's younger sister. I wanted her to be a Winchester but I also wanted her to have grown up hunting more, so. Mary wanted to escape the hunting life and so did Sally. As soon as she turned eighteen, Sally moved to NYC and changed her name from Campbell to Jackson and went no contact with her entire family except for Mary. 

Sally and Mary were super close growing up and even once they lived so far apart, they still kept in contact. Sally came and visited Mary and John for the births of Dean and Sam and she was so excited to be an aunt and she was so happy for her sister. But one night, a few months after Sam was born and Sally had returned to New York, Mary called her in the middle of the night crying and told Sally about her deal, she begged Sally to look out for her boys. Sally promised to try. 

Mary died. 

John and the boys disappeared and Sally tried to reach out and she tried to find them, but John refused to answer her calls and she always seemed to be one step behind. 

Then, nearly a year after Mary had died, John appeared at the doorstep of Sally’s shitty apartment, Dean and Sam nowhere to be seen, and told her he was hunting down whatever had killed Mary because he knew it wasn’t some gas leak, he knows what he saw, and he saw his wife burning on the ceiling of Sammy’s nursery with her stomach slashed open. 

Sally tries to ask where her nephews are but John keeps dodging her questions and refusing to answer her. He disappears again and she tries to keep tabs on him, she does, but anywhere she manages to track him to, there’s never any mention of two little boys with him and she starts to think that maybe her nephews are dead. (Spoiler: they’re not. When Sally learns just how shitty their childhoods were, she hunts down and murders John ^-^) 

Sally mourns her nephews and curses her brother-in-law and prays that Mary can forgive her for breaking her promise. 

Eventually, she tries to move on with her life, and she meets a handsome stranger and falls in love because she knows that he’s a god, and she was taught that all gods are cruel, capricious monsters who need to be killed but Poseidon is nothing like that, nothing like she’d been raised to believe and before long she has a little blessing of her own. 

She uses what she knows from growing up a hunter to try and keep Percy safe for as long as she can. 

She marries Gabe and makes sure she has iron and silver and salt in the house at all times and she has a go bag ready to go for both her and Percy. 

He turns twelve. He is dragged into the demigod world and Sally always knew this day was coming but that doesn’t make this any easier. She already lost her sister and her nephews, she doesn’t think she would be able to survive losing her son, too. 

Percy is thirteen and Gabe is dead and their lives are better and then one day Sally gets an alert from a search algorithm she had long given up on that a Samuel Winchester was enrolled in Stanford University in Palo Alto, California. 

She wanted to reach out, but she had never told Percy about her sister or nephews and she had no idea if Sam knew she existed. She doubted John would have talked about her and Dean had probably been too young to remember her. So she didn’t try and contact him, but she did keep an eye on him and how he was doing. 

Four years later, Percy has survived the Great Prophecy and beaten Kronos. (“Mom, when did you learn how to fire a shotgun?” “About ten seconds ago,” she lied. She felt bad lying to her son, but his life was dangerous enough with just the Greek world to worry about, he didn’t need to worry about everything else that was out there. From what she knew, the Greeks were pretty strict about not mixing pantheons, so she hoped that he would never run into any other kind of monster.) He’s sixteen and traumatized but healing and he has her, and Annabeth, and Grover, and all his other friends from Camp. Sam is twenty-two and about to graduate from Stanford as Valedictorian and continue into law school. She sees pictures of him online on Stanford’s website and years books and he has Mary’s smile and John’s nose and she couldn’t be prouder of him even if he doesn’t even know she exists. 

Sally has her baby boy, safe and by her side as he heals from fighting a war too young, she has Paul, a wonderful, loving husband that takes care of her and Percy, and she knows that Sam is alive and doing well, free from whatever hell John must have raised him and Dean in, and while she wishes she knew for certain that Dean was alive and okay as well, she was happy with what she had. 

But then Percy goes missing. 

Annabeth Iris Messages her to tell her that Percy has gone missing from his cabin at Camp, the one place he is supposed to be safe, and they’ve been looking for him for almost a week now but there’s been no sign and the gods aren’t answering anyone’s prayers and Mr. D was called back to Olympus and Annabeth is so sorry but she doesn’t know what to do and Sally deserved to know that her son was missing. 

Later that day, she reads a news article from California and learns that Sam’s girlfriend died in a fire exactly like Mary did.

Next up: First Written Scene <3

[jonathanbrandisarchive]

jon's home away from home, the sequel since setting up camp in the sunshine state to work on seaquest dsv, jon brandis has ventured from his hotel home in search of amusement. here, jon’s mom, mary, tells bop’s cathee what her son does for florida fun:

cathee: last month, you told us jon would rather play pool than swim in a pool. mary: yeah, there is a billiard parlor that is right around the corner [from our hotel]. but it's not walking distance; he has to drive to it.

cathee: is jon still driving the car the seaquest people loaned him?mary: yeah. a gold toyota camry, brand-new. he has been driving around, getting to know the area. he is finding his way around, which is surprising. it was a brand-new area, so we got maps, and he asked me to write out directions on little 3x5 cards to things like malls and the movie theater, to and from the studio and [the video store]. he carries them in his car, but i knew that once he did it a couple times, he wouldn't need them.

cathee: so i take it that jon the movie buff has been seeing some movies? mary: one of the first things that he did when we got here was go and find the nearest video store so he could sign up and start renting movies! and he found a really nice movie theater complex. he has gone to the movies with me, or he goes with his dad [greg, when he's visiting from los angeles]. i don't know if they've gone to the movies together, but jon has been hanging out with ted raimi and marco sanchez from the show. he has gotten a lot closer with the returning cast members, like roy scheider, don franklin, ted and marco. and, of course, darwin!

cathee: has jon made other friends in florida? mary: yeah, he's met some people in production. there are some young people working in the production office, so he'll go get a coffee and just sit there and talk to them.

cathee: are there any cool coffeehouses nearby? mary: that is one of the things that he misses, that they don't have a lot of. that and the vintage shops. jon really misses [coffeehouses] and venice beach and the shops on] melrose avenue.

cathee: so where does he go instead? mary: he's been to disney world and epcot center and the disney studios. jon has gone to disney world three times already. he does the voice [of mozenrath, the evil wizard] on the aladdin cartoon for disney so, well, they take him around to anything he wants to go on, and he loves it. it is nice that he gets that special treatment and all they ask is that he pose for a couple of pictures. oh, he also hangs out at the hard rock cafe. he has been there several times. it is right on the universal lot. there's also a sea world that jon's been to with one of his friends. he's also been to the new planet hollywood restaurant.

cathee: well, it sounds like there's enough to keep jon entertained! thanks again for all the details, mary.

[cdyssey]

Yellowjackets 2.05 Reactions:

The stacks of VHS tapes everywhere in Van’s house/shop are so charming. 😭 The rainbow carpet! The past due bills!

“Parker Posey is my new dream woman. I would marry her today.” So right, bestie.

VAN RECOMMENDING QUEER MOVIES TO PEOPLE. OH, I LOVE HER. VAN’S STORE BEING SAFE FOR QUEER CUSTOMERS!!

Tai collapsing after seeing her ex for the first time in 25 years because she hasn’t slept in, like, five days. Go, girl failure. Give us nothing. <3

Shaunatai friendship moments. 😭 Tai being so gentle with her. I’m actually unwell about them.

“Happy wife, happy life.” I fucking love her.

Atm, Shauna is firmly in nothing-fucking-supernatural-is-happening-here-at-all-camp with Tai and Nat! It’s really interesting that this makes three out of our core four. (I honestly half-suspect that it’s actually four out of four, and teen Misty is just going along with the majority right now to be included.)

Shauna overhearing Lottie creepily prophesy the sex of her baby again and Tai turning around to watch her. 😭

Fucking creepy grown ass detective who is taking this underaged teenager on dates!! Preying on her emotions for a gd case!!!

“I sexually hustled you.” Oh, God, Callie. Go home. ☠️

Good on Callie for figuring out who Matt is by looking at the check!!!! Okay, yes, she absolutely did not need to be having feelings for this man, but also, I feel so bad for her. Everyone this girl cares about hurts her in some unimaginably fucked up way.

“Maybe he did die, and that’s his ghost.” ANANWJJEJWNWDIWWI

Akilah naming the mouse Nugget. ;w;

Misty kissing her and Crystal’s pinky swear. 😭 Mari is 100% manipulating the chore cards.

Callie lying to Matt!!!!!! Oh, God, she’s in it to protect her parents now. Her mom. So fucked up, but so good. All she has wanted this entire time is to feel close to her mother.

“There’s only ever one rule: Win.” Very suspicious line, lmao. I wonder if this is going to end up being Walter’s ethos.

Van immediately knowing that Tai is there about the sleepwalking.

NOT TAI GIVING HER THE BOOB PEN WKQKQKWJEJDJWIEJDJEJD.

THEY WENT TO SHAUNA’S WEDDING. OH, GOD. THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY. And that also means they were together at least for a little bit after returning from the woods. (We know from Jeff’s bro-off with Kevyn that he and Shauna basically got married almost as soon as Shauna got back from the woods. It’s wrenching that Mrs. Taylor was there in so many ways. Wow. For Shauna, who was so entangled with Jackie, and now she’s about to literally live her life. For Jeff, whose two girlfriends died and one of them came back wrong. For Tai and Van and other Yellowjackets if they attended, who had to look at the Taylors and know that they ate their daughter. And even for Mrs. Taylor, a grieving mother. Just one line, but it’s so, so loaded.)

“Promise you won’t freak out.” / “Sure.” / “No.” AJWJWJJWIWJSJDW.

“A fucking cop?” MELANIE LYNSKEY’S EYEBROWS ARCHING EJWJDNS.

CONCERNED PARENTS ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS ABOUT THE COP’S AGE!!! Listen, the Sadecki family is fucked up to hell and back, but I love them.

“So… I did fix it?” / “You-you did that great.” So, so effed up. <33

NAT IS STILL WEARING THOSE GODDAMN LEATHER PANTS. GIRL, YOU’RE GONNA GET AN INFECTION!! This being said, it’s notable that she’s wearing a purple top now.

Akilah being a skeptic too. Also, every time we get a new piece of Akilah lore, I want to die a little inside because it’s so lovely and they’re 100% priming us for her inevitable death. 😭 Her friendship with Tai is so sweet, though.

I love the distinction that Akilah makes here, though—doing the pre-game rituals and going to Lottie’s morning sit-down not because she believes in these things, but because they make her feel good.

“Well, yeah—because you’re totally whipped.” AKKQKQOQIEIEJWJEJDJS. Splashing each other with water. Kids being kids, even in the desolate and unforgiving wilderness. 😭

Oh, God. This Travis/Nat confrontation. So upsetting. Nat immediately fessing up to it is incredible; she’s not a character who likes to deal with lies.

Lottie curling her hand around Nat’s shoulder!!! Gays, we win again.

“Actually, uh, before we go into the black recesses of my soul, I just need a minute.” Same.

MISTYNAT REUNION!!!! What if they kissed between the gate slats. Then what

(I’m sorry. I ship almost all of these women together. I think if this season doesn’t end with ALL of them making out by the fire in Lottie’s compound, it’s a missed opportunity.)

Misty’s look of utter horror as Nat stalks away. She came so far for her.

I know it’s just the effect of Tawny Cypress’s contacts, but Tai’s eyes being slightly red at certain times is just chef’s kiss.

Tai sitting in the chair like a child, knees pulled up to her chest. She looks and sounds so vulnerable, even as she’s trying to be glib.

Misty and Crystal trading secrets back-and-forth QNQKQKKWJE. So funny and so effed up.

You know, I could have done without the shot of the shit and piss being poured out. We can imply that. 😭

KRISTEN. 😭😭😭😭 The fact that she went by the mistaken name just to keep her peers’ approval. So Misty-coded.

OH, GOD. IS MISTY ABOUT TO FUCKING ADMIT TO DESTROYING THE BLACK BOX. NO. NO. NO. THAT MIGHT BE TOO EFFED UP, EVEN FOR KRISTEN.

FUCK, SHE’S GOING TO DO IT.

IT IS TOO FUCKED UP FOR KRISTEN.

“You’re the reason we never got rescued?”

“You’re not that good of an actress.” Fair in this moment, but Misty did slay that Steel Magnolias monologue.

“I’ll… fucking… kill you.” JESUS CHRIST

KRISTEN. OH, MY FUCKING GO D.

I’M LOSING MY SHIT.

GOD, GOD GOD GOD DGOD GOD

I am so FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS.

Directly on the heels of Misty losing her best friend in the wilderness, we get adult Misty reeling over Nat. I am so fucking unwell.

“Maybe Lottie is jealous of what Natalie and I have.” Natalie has two hands, Misty. <3

Walter having done the due diligence of checking to see about Adam’s murder, but coming to the wrong conclusion.

“You think I’m capable of murder?” DIRECTLY ON THE HEELS OF KRISTEN’S DEATH. I’M SO FUCKED UP.

WALTER STILL BEING INTO MISTY EVEN THOUGH HE SUSPECTS SHE’S A MURDERER EJWNDNNE. Listen, I love him, but I think he’s as dead as a doorknob by the end of this season.

“… regardless of your extracurricular activities.” AMQMQKWKDNSSN.

Shauna all dolled up to pretend to have an affair, lmao SNDNSNDNWJNS.

Randy Walsh being such a dumbass is one of my favorite recurring bits. Just stellar.

“After what you and Jeff did, you owe me.” ANQKWJRJWJJWNDJSSN. Where else on television will you find an emotionally unwell, violent MILF who tells her husband’s best friend who blackmailed her friends to go jerk off into a trash can? Go on, tell me.

“Hey. Don’t you you dare think about me.” AKQKQOOQJEEIENNWIEIWKWJDNNENEJD. SOBBING.

Tai playing the mediator between Lottie and Shauna.

NOT TAISSA SNOOPING THROUGH VAN’S MEDICINE CABINETS. GIRL FAILURE, DON’T SCREW THIS UP A SECOND TIME.

Van having cared for her mother—despite everything—in the last years of her life. Goddamn.

“I’m mixing my pop culture metaphors ‘cause I’m fucking upset!” AWKWKWKJEDJWJ. Lauren Ambrose is killing it.

“I’m losing my fucking mind, and I’m terrified!” GOD, THAT WAS VISCERAL. The way she can’t admit to not having been this afraid since the woods. The way she can’t ask for help because she doesn’t want to hurt any other people that she loves. She still loves Van . Absolutely fucking devastating.

Tai breaking down in sobs. I’m so upset. 😭 TAIVAN EMBRACE.

No, Yellowjackets, I did not need to be in the bathroom with Randy Walsh failing to jerk off. Thank you for asking.

Nat screaming at Lottie!!!! “She’s preying and profiting.”

Nat breaking the fuck down in front of Lottie.

“You know what he was going through. You started it.” JESUS CHRIST.

“Maybe that’s true, but I need to know.” YELLS, SCREAMS.

Tai following Shauna out into the woods, even though she’s giving her the silent treatment. 😭

“But I’m rightfully freaking the fuck out about having a baby in the middle of the fucking woods, and news flash, having a bunch of psychos praying for me in some weird fucking tree cult isn’t making my life any easier.” GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD.

“I don’t need your fucking prayers. I need you to have my back.” / “I do.” LOSING MY MIND OVER THESE TWO.

IT’S SHAUNA NEEDING SOMEONE TO BE NORMAL WITH HER, AND TAISSA NEEDING TO FEEL NORMAL HERSELF, TO NOT HAVE ANY MORE NIGHTMARES.

NO, NOT LABOR PAINS. OH, GOD.

Misty sobbing over Kristen. Calling her by Crystal twice before she says her actual name. Ugh. Trying CPR to the Bees Gees. Jesus CHRIST.

Can they go into Randy’s room without a warrant???? Kevyn so badly doesn’t want it to be Shauna. I really do appreciate that about him.

NOT MATT SMELLING THE GODDAMN CONDOM. WHAT IS THIS SHOW.

STRAWBERRIES.

LIKE THE LUBE.

UNREAL.

Javi speaking cryptically about someone not telling him to come back, a “she.” 😬

Misty coming up with a believable lie about Kristen, and one of the last things Kristen ever said to her was that she was a bad liar. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Van screaming for Tai and Shauna. Misty calling out for Kristen, even though she fucking knows that she can’t hear her.

THE GIRLS RITUALISTICALLY CHANTING. I’M SO FUCKED UP. AND IT’S WORKING. AND TAI’S DOING IT.

Tai finally sleeping soundly at Van’s. 😭

Oh, my fucking God. Van taking the pills out of the trash can.

SLEEPWALKING TAI. THAT EVIL SMILE. THE WAY SHE BOBS HER HEAD. TERRIFYING.

“This isn’t where we’re supposed to be.” AUHDJDWNH.

“He was seeing some girl. Part of me wanted to ruin it. But another part of me just missed him.” This line of dialogue is so goddamn raw and brutal.

NAT OVERDOSING.

NAT ENVISIONING THAT THEY DIDN’T FUCKING MAKE IT. THOSE BURNED BODIES.

THE ANTLER QUEEN?!?!!

WE BROUGHT IT BACK.

WE BROUGHT IT BACK WITH US:

WHAT THE AFTUAL HELL

NAT LAYING HER HEAD ON LOTTIE’S LAP AND THEY’RE FUCKING TEENAGERS AGAIN. I’M

NO, IT’S ONLY NAT WHO’S THE TEENAGER. SHE’S GONE BACK TO BEINT A CHILD. AND LOTTIE IS STILL AN ADULT, BUT SHE’S SEEING THE SHADOW OF THE ANTLER QUEEN ON THE FLOOR AND

DID ALL OF THESE PEOPLE DIE AND LITERALLY COME BACK WRONG

THIS SHOW

[w-m-heart]

Flufftober Day 2: Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean x Castiel Word Count: 1120 words Summary: Dean is coming home from war, and he can’t wait to see his family and everyone he loves. And most of all he can’t wait to see Cas. But when he gets there, everyone but Cas is there. 

“Are you sure you want me there?” 

Dean glanced over at his best friend, Charlie. She was staring out the window and fiddling with her fingers; the picture of nerves. He nudged her with his shoulder. “‘Course I do. You’re family, kid. It’s time you meet the rest of them.” 

She glanced back at him. “You’re sure? I don’t want to get in the way. You haven’t seen them since before your last tour, I don’t want to intrude.” 

That was true. After his last tour, rather than returning home as most other soldiers, he’d signed straight up for the next one. Two weeks later his dad had died in a car accident. 

Dean hated himself for that. If he’d just sucked up his pride and come home his dad never would have been out driving. He never would have gotten behind the wheel drunk and mad at Dean. 

Yes he would have, a tiny voice in his mind whispered. John Winchester was always drunk and mad. 

“Hey.” A cool hand rested on his arm. He looked up to see Charlie watching him with worried, knowing eyes. “It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to bring me along. I’m sure you want time alone with your family. We can catch up later.”

Dean shook his head and swallowed his souring mood. “Not a chance, kid. Mom and Sammy’ll kill me if I don’t introduce you. They’re dying to meet you.” 

His mom would probably kick him straight out of the house if he didn’t bring Charlie to meet everyone. He’d talked about her in every letter he’d sent home, and practically everyone was always asking about her. The miracle girl who’d saved Dean’s life. 

When Sammy had called with the news about John, Dean had descended into a destructive spiral of self-hatred that had nearly gotten him killed. He would have been captured and tortured by the enemy if the new recruit hadn’t slapped some sense into him. Dean still couldn’t get over how she had dragged his broken ass back to base camp on her very first tour. 

Oh he’d hated her in the beginning, but their captain had decided pairing them up was the perfect way to keep everyone alive. And it was. Charlie had saved his ass from shitty decisions more times than he could count, and he’d had her back in every possible way. 

And of course their shared appreciation of attractive ladies in camp helped turn them from reluctant partners to the best of friends. Now there wasn’t any other person he would rather have watching his six. And there certainly wasn’t anyone else he would be dragging home to meet the family. 

Especially since she had no family of her own to return to. 

Dean threw an arm around her shoulders.“You’re coming, and that’s final.” 

Charlie grinned. “Okay.” 

For the rest of the flight home, she was bouncing in her seat and chattering about how excited she was to meet her new family. And try as he might, her happiness was too damn infectious for Dean to pretend he wasn’t just as excited to see his family too. 

~~~

“Oh I missed you, baby.” Mary Winchester held her eldest son so tight he could barely breathe. He loved it. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in her familiar scent. “I missed you too, Mom.” 

After a long second, she pulled back reluctantly and let Dean be grabbed by the next family member. 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said gruffly, squeezing his younger brother far more tightly than he had his mom. “Missed you,” he added through a mouthful of his brother’s hair.

“You must be Charlie,” Mary said, behind Dean. 

He pulled out of Sam’s embrace to see his mother holding his ‘battle buddy’s’ hands and smiling warmly at her. Dean cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. Charlie, this is Mary, Sam, Bobby, and—” 

He cut off, looking around. First he’d thought Cas was just standing behind the others, but now it was clear he wasn’t there at all. Dean went cold. Despite himself and everything he knew of their relationship, he was suddenly terrified his husband wasn’t there because he was off signing divorce papers. Cas had sworn that Dean signing up for the second tour hadn’t annoyed him, but he’d clearly been upset. Dean should have—

Sam clapped Dean on the back, interrupting his train of thought. With a laugh, he said, “Cas is on his way. He got lost and went to the wrong airport.” 

“What?” Dean stared at him. “How the hell did he go to the wrong airport?” He gestured at the utter bareness of their surroundings. “This is the only damn airport this side of Canada!” 

Mary shrugged, still not letting go of her new daughter. “You know Castiel, darling. He doesn’t do well with directions.” 

Charlie, who had immediately succumbed to Mary’s bear hug, smiled at Dean. “He’ll be here!” 

Sam just snorted. He nodded over Dean’s shoulder with a grin and said, “Why don’t you ask him how he got lost?” 

Dean spun around, searching the tarmac for the other half of his heart. There were dozens of other couples and families hugging and welcoming each other home, but he couldn’t see—

There. Talking to a bewildered aircraft marshaller, Cas looked like he’d run through the damn forest to get there. His hair was a mess and there were a million leaves attached to his favourite trenchcoat, but Dean’s heart was pounding at the sight of him. He had Dean’s favourite flowers in his hands, which were miraculously intact, and before he even knew it, Dean was running. 

As the marshaller pointed to them and Cas turned, he too stumbled into a run. The distance between them vanished and suddenly they were crashing into each other. They were a mess of limbs and tears as they clutched each other. 

“I missed you.” Cas buried his fingers into Dean’s back, and his face in Dean’s neck. 

Dean shuddered as he tried to pull his husband closer. “I shouldn’t have gone so long. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t care.” Cas shook his head. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

Then, Cas moaned, pulling away. “Your flowers!” 

They both looked down. The once perfect sunflowers were now crumpled underfoot, entirely forgotten about. They were the most beautiful present Dean had ever gotten. 

Dean laughed wetly. “I love them.” He pulled Cas back in and kissed him fervently. “Almost as much as I love you.” 

Cas gripped Dean like he never wanted to let him go as Dean peppered his face with kisses. Their family had wandered off to give them privacy—and get to know Charlie—and there was nowhere else either man would rather be. 

A/N: a tad late, but that's alright haha. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love watching those videos of people coming home from war and everyone just bawling their eyes out

And thanks to @flufftober for this year's prompts. I am loving doing flufftober this year.

[tickledpink31]

If Mari’s mom is an archaeologist, then does her dad have an outdoor job too?That could explain why she knows so much about wilderness survival. Her parents take the kids camping all the time for their work.

P.S. how would her mom feel when she finds out her daughter is the Butterfly maiden and is married to a million year old demon that she has been researching since Mari was born?

(I haven't thought about the names of the parents yet, so they'll be Mr. Orozco and Mrs. Leong for now)

Mari's father, Mr. Orozco is an athlete in archery; he goes out into the wilderness plenty to practice his sport, and he teaches an archery class. Only two of his children though were ever interested in learning archery, one of them being Mari, obviously.

And we all know what happened the day Mr. Orozco decided that his little girl was ready for the real arrows. Her mother was not pleased.

Speaking of Mrs. Leong:

Mrs. Leong knows Mari more than anyone. She knew that something was off with her daughter when Mari woke up from her coma (and returned from the journey). Not that the change was entirely a bad thing since Mari is less moody and making friends now.

But then all of a sudden, Mari wants to leave Singapore to go to China. Where did that come from? She can't just do that. She has college to worry about, and she almost died on a cruise ship after travelling around the world.

Now, Mari can't just tell her mother that she's Liang Xiaodie. She'll look crazy. So, she had to plan carefully about how she's going to see Wukong again. Money isn't a problem, her family is wealthy, but convincing her parents to let her go would be a problem. So, she leaves the country without telling anyone.

The end of season 3 is where the family finds out Mari is the Butterfly Maiden, and yeah… to say it was a shock would be the understatement of the year. The family doesn't know whether to feel proud or concerned. I mean how do you react when you find out your daughter was a legendary heroine in Chinese mythology, fighting tooth and nail to protect a monk from demons! Demons! And she's not just married to a monkey, but the legendary Monkey King!

But the family is also pretty mad. They went through hell looking for Mari after no contact for months. She refused to tell them which part of China she went to, so that nothing would get in her way of finding Wukong. She even left her phone back in Singapore, so that they wouldn't track her. Who could blame them for getting angry since they almost lost Mari once?

Mrs. Leong did not approve of the union at first, and did not see it as a legitimate marriage. There’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes, and she lives by that. She admires the Monkey King, but not enough to want to meet him and certainly not to have him as a son-in-law. The Sun Wukong she remembers reading about was a violent miscreant, and it doesn't help that she knows that Mari got possessed by a demon as leverage against him. All I can imagine is that they have the awkward dinner scene from Shrek 2, where Wukong failing miserably to get the blessing of his in-laws.

It takes a while, but Mrs. Leong eventually warms up to Wukong. That monkey would do anything for his wife and adored every fibre of her being. As time passed, she began to see a parallel between Mari's marriage and her own. Mr. Orozoco was a bit like Wukong once when trying to get a blessing from his future in-laws.

[pbandjesse]

Today was a pretty good day. I have a little bit of a headache right now but that's all right.

I have not made as much stuff today as I was hoping. But it was still a good day. Still productive. I slept all right. I woke up and gave myself a few minutes to lay in bed. When I got out of bed eventually I pulled everything off the bed and made it and went and got dressed and I feel pretty good. I decided to make myself a very nice breakfast. I used some hash browns and mix them with eggs and made this nice hash thing. Which was excellent. Then I vacuumed for a while. Cleaned up. And I just hung around. I didn't really want to do any stuff in my studio. And I just didn't have any motivation to go down to the car and bring anything inside that I really should have. I'm very behind on my knitting but I think I'm going to save a lot of it for being at the desk on Thursday and Friday and then bring it with me camping so I'm not that concerned.

But it was a nice morning. I decided to leave here a little early and drove over to the grocery store because I was hoping to get some dried strawberries. But I couldn't find them anywhere and then someone almost hit me in the parking lot because they were driving really really fast. I was a little annoyed but I would get to art with a heart around 12:15 which was exactly what I wanted to be there.

I didn't have to unarm the building though because people were already there. But then I was confused about rearming it so I did still rearm it and I hope that I did the correct thing. I got to meet our new volunteer whose name was Paris. And she is lovely. And Naomi came and then Mary Ellen. And it was just a really good day.

The groups were a little larger than last time and it was nice to figure out who was returning and who was new and we had some more girls that were very very sweet. Though a little stressed out about the project. Understandable. And I really tried to be encouraging to everyone and things were great.

The one issue though was that some of them were finishing a project from last week. Which is fine except I had no connection to the pieces getting stored. And Ireland's piece got a splash of yellow on it and she was so upset. Like on the verge of hurting herself she was getting so angry. And her mom tried to use white paint but the white paint they gave us was really thin so I came over and I asked if I could help. And I looked at the issue and I thought if I could get some more opaque white pain I could fix it. So I did exactly that and she calmed down and everything was fine. She kept apologizing and I was like it is okay I totally understand being upset. Not hurting my feelings at all. I'm glad I was able to help you. And she was in a great mood for the rest of the hour.

The second hour with the adults was also excellent. There was a couple new people and everyone really seem to enjoy making the portraits. When I had first got there I looked up the artist because their name was Kimmy and I didn't know anything about them and it turned out it was a boy so I'm really glad we looked up a video about them because I don't want to miss gender and artist because I don't know anything about them. And then there was a couple people who just wanted to keep painting and making more and more pieces which is fine with me. It was a good time.

We cleaned up pretty easily. I made sure the building was armed and we got everything together. We did leave their pieces on newspaper on the floor in the main room. There was other stuff drying in there so I think it is okay. I sent an email double-checking because I don't know what is all right and what isn't. And I want to know for the future just in case.

Once everything was cleaned up and lockdown I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes writing up my report. So that I don't forget anything for Friday when we have to submit all of our paperwork. And then I went home.

When I got back here I just wanted to chill. I would only be home for a little while before James came back here too. And after laying in bed with me for a little bit they want to go cut their hair. I was sad for them to lose their little mullet but it makes them happier to have a shaved head and honestly they did a very good job and they look really cute. They're getting better at styling to talk to. Their hair is getting a lot more healthy with all of the work we've put into it over the last year with products and supplements and things. Reminding James to not pull their hair so they're not ripping it out of their head all the time. I'm very proud of them. I love them very much.

James made us falafel salads for dinner. Which were excellent. And I worked on my embroidery bag a little bit more. I did a bunch of drawings on it so that I will have things to embroider over the next couple weeks. Honestly it probably won't last that long. But I want to fill up the whole top and make it look really heavy and interesting. I'll probably add beating on to it at some point too. I'm really enjoying this little project because it's very inconsequential and it's not like my jacket where it was very this is what we do everyday. This one is a little bit more like freeform.

Then that's kind of what I did for the rest of the night. I watched videos. I made egg salad for lunch tomorrow. I packed my lunch and put it in a bag in the fridge so that I won't forget it. I hung out with sweet pea. It's just been a good night.

I just got out of a very nice bubble bath. And I am in bed now feeling pretty tired. Tomorrow I have ground elements again at camp and I asked to switch so that I don't have to do the ones with ropes because my thumb still really hurts. It's not as bad as it was on Friday but it's still very uncomfortable. So let's hope that tomorrow is a very good day. And then I have excellent kids. And I hope that the weather is beautiful because I'm looking forward to being outside. I hope that you all have a great day and are taking care of yourself. I love you all. Good night.

[fakecmpire]

a gentle kiss pressed on top of a band-aid. a cup of coffee left to go cold. the ghost of your breath on a crisp winter morning. a helping hand. an immaculate white coat. a simple crucifix on a thin silver chain. trying to be everything for everyone. making your parents proud. squeezing somebody’s hand. the drum of blood in your ears. sunlight filtering through a stained glass window. encouraging someone to lean on you. receiving benediction. being forever in need of just five more minutes. 

statistics.

full name:  christopher laurence ahn nickname(s):  he’ll accept chris, but he’s definitely more of a christopher name meaning:  bearer of christ age:  thirty-five date of birth:  january 3rd star sign:  capricorn place of birth:  seattle, washington current location:  grimrose, new hampshire gender:  cis-male pronouns:  he/him sexual orientation:  gay, but it’s complicated religion:  catholic, but it’s complicated occupation:  doctor at grimrose general practice family:  jae-won “jay” ahn (father), dolores ahn (mother) education level:  m.d from harvard medical school living arrangements:  a nice apartment on main street financial status:  comfortable spoken languages:  english, korean, spanish 

inspirations.

paul hill (midnight mass) marcus keane (the exorcist) louis de pointe du lac (interview with a vampire) james wilson (house m.d.) jane bennet (pride and prejudice) owen sharma (the haunting of bly manor) bruce banner (the incredible hulk)

biography. (internalised homophobia tw, catholic guilt tw)

Christopher was raised in a devoutly catholic household, and religion has pretty much shaped his entire life. He went to catholic school, did bible camp most summers, and attended church services with his parents at least once a week for the entirety of his childhood.

Growing up, he was very close with his mom and dad. It was just the three of them, and they were like the musketeers - there was a lot of love in the house, but that love became fraught as Christopher got older and started keeping secrets from them.

He couldn’t tell his parents about the terrifying things he felt; about his burgeoning crush on a boy in his class that nearly tore him in half with guilt and longing. It didn’t fit with the church’s teachings, and he wanted to be a good son - if that meant carving pieces of himself away to preserve that image, that’s what he would do.

It was practically a given that Christopher would be a doctor some day. Helping people was about the highest calling he could think of, and between his excellent grades and copious extra curriculars, he more than earned his place at Harvard. His parents were worried how their son would fair at a secular college so far from home, but they were proud of what their son had achieved, and trusted him to make good choices. 

He had a very active social life at college, but he never dated, insisting he was too busy to think about it. This was largely to protect himself, and to save him from outright lying to his parents when he came home for the holidays.

After working himself to the bone and finally completing his residency, Christopher was left to his own devices. Instead of returning to Washington as was expected, he opted to move out to New Haven, to a small town by the name of Grimrose. The town had need of a doctor, and on doing a little research into local history, he realised his mother had been born there - back when the place was called Mary’s Cove.

Having lived in Grimrose for a year now, he’s finally starting to feel a sense of something like home. He likes his neighbours, and is ever-friendly and helpful, but sometimes it feels as though there’s a sheet of glass separating him from everybody else. Nobody really knows him, not deep down, where it actually counts. He’s just a nice man, keeping everyone at arm’s length.

other things.

since moving to grimrose, christopher has started organising regular five-a-side soccer games, and can usually be found playing in the park every other sunday afternoon. he’s a midfielder, and supports chelsea football club.

he drives to the neighbouring town to attend church every sunday morning. 

he’s big on volunteer work, and rarely says ‘no’ if someone calls on him to donate his time. if there’s soup that needs ladling, a community garden that needs digging, or clothes that need sorting, you can count on christopher to be there.

he loves to cook, but can’t bake worth a damn. 

in an ideal universe, he’d have a dog - but he hasn’t got time to take care of one.

if he ever left general practice, he’d go into paediatrics. he loves kids, and keeps a selection of lollypops, stickers, and fun band-aids in his desk at work. one wall of his office is devoted to pictures his young patients have made him over the years.

like many doctors, he’s terrible at being sick. he simply refuses to slow down.

[womensharpoon]

More autobiography

...I've rambled here about my art series. I haven't written much more about my life, but there is so much more, so here I go again. I left off in my teens, circa 1965, wandering New York, sneaking off from my suburban New Jersey home to explore and wonder and wander. Finally I graduated high school. My mother scored me a job in Monticello, NJ, at Swinging Bridge Lodge. It was a fabulous summer, I had my first sex, my first love, my days were filled with waiting tables and learning how to water ski from beautiful boys who wanted into my pants, my nights bartending (I was only 17 but everyone ignored that). My hair pulled up, a fake braid down my back, strumming my guitar, sitting behind the bar, cigarette dangling from my lips, wailing out Buffy St Marie and Joan Baez, life was sweet. It was then, one glowing evening sitting on the back porch of the Marina Restaurant, listening to Phil and Fanny Hype, the owners, chatter from the kitchen, gazing out across the lake, I visualized myself in my 80's, looking back at a life filled with adventures, telling my tales, and I knew between now and then I had to fulfill that self-prophecy...live my life to its fullest; grab every token, follow every path that presented itself, never let an opportunity go by. That was the real beginning, the intent to life my life to its fullest.

The summer passed. I returned to my NJ suburban home. I already had sculptures and drawings in a gallery in Englewood, the only artist showing, but Sharon Cohen, the owner, was so supportive she had somehow convinced my parents to let me pursue my studies at the University of Hartford Art School. It was a disaster. I didn't know how to be a student, I didn't follow the rules, I didn't understand or even know the rules and my fuck-it-all attitude annoyed the professors. The following summer, counselling at some Jewish sleep-away camp in upstate New York, teaching little people how to water ski, I met a girl who talked me into quitting school and getting a job at Columbia U. I just did it. The next day I was driving back home, I shucked the camp, college, and other people's ideas of what I should be doing with my life and slid out of it like an old, ratty, worn-out coat. I started commuting to my job at Low Library at Columbia on 116th St in NY, renovated my brother's unused bedroom into an art studio, got a bunch of drawings accepted at the Marissa del Rey Gallery on Madison Avenue, and my new life was underway.

Life slid into perfection. The 60's in New York was filled with civil disobedience, marches and sit-ins against the Vietnam war spilled out from Low Library onto the campus. I started seeing a boy who edited an underground newspaper filled with anarchy and insurrection, his tiny apartment in the Village smelled of Brussel Sprouts and cat litter and pot. Coming home at 2am stinking of Mary J, stoned out of my mind, sitting at the piano, composing and flying high. Commuting daily to my mindless job, weekends painting, drawing, exploring art, showings at my 2 galleries.

Mom decided I was drifting. Hear this voice, slightly Jewish NY accent, saying "Hally, you need something to fall back on. I signed you up for Katherine Gibbs. Go, you need a real job." Mothers. Can't live with them, can't be born without them. What could I do? I didn't have an alternative, the ultimate was given. My brother was living in Englewood with his friend, Dan Hennessey (yeah, he wasn't born in Toronto, he was born in Demarest, NJ -- Hi Dan, give me a call sometime) but he wouldn't let me move in, so I was trapped.

So I learned typing and shorthand. I hated every minute of it until I met Cheryl Vernon. Kindred spirit, gorgeous face with a marring split lip, we wore huge hats (hats were a must have at Katie Gibbs), white kid gloves that turned black from subway soot, heals under 2", skirts below your knees. It's 1968. Beatles, Donovan, folk rock. At the end of class every day we put our shoes and hats in our lockers, we rolled up the waists of our skirts to show our thighs, we put on our hip-high white patent leather boots that were definitely meant for walking, see-through shirts, chocolate Nat Sherman's delicately held to our glossy painted lips, we sauntered down Fifth Avenue with the rest of the girlie brigade.

[nityarawal]

3/10/2024

Morning Songs

Real You (Bobu- For Dylan Hour & Bernards)

Real You

Was Always Here

Real Me

Was Always 

Dear

Real Me

Little Nitya

Saw

Alien Rings

Around Lovers Eyes

In Tahoe

Knew My Parents

Nest Divine

Camping

Moving

Building

But Had Nannies

Wanting Children

Yogis

Like Me

Lovin' On Me

Yogis

Extraterrestrials

Hikers

Cross Country

Skiers 

Picnickingdown Hill

Skiers

Medetators

Potluckers 

Beach Boys

Magicians

Doug Henning

Yeah- They Wanted

Me

A Little Yogini

Dolly

To Call Their Own

For A Minute

It's Only Natural

To Want A Mom

Like Cher

To Love You

Unconditionally

Understand

You Like The Sun

Shed Light On

Your Shadows

And Let No

Man Exploit

Your Back

Cher My Love

Mamma

Cher Mitra

Cher My Love

Cher Nitya 

Cher My Love

Cher Eternity

Cher My Song 

'Cuz My Data's

Gone

You See

Shadowbanned

Murdered

On X

Cher My Love

Cher My Eternity

Cher Is God

But Only In

Trinity

Not A Robot

For You Or Me

Cher Beyonce

Cher Mancuso

Gals

Cher Raimondi

Cher Greenfields 

Cher Narducci's 

Cher Travellis

Cher Moezzi

Cher Burman

Cher Happy

Cher Jyoti

Of The Light

Mamma

Cher Huntley

Cher Nella

Cher Stephensons

Space X Managers

Rewind Please

Rewind AI

Rewind YouTube

X Is Eclipsing

Y' All

Obviously

Trillionaires

Eternal Love

Airhearts Winning

Cher My Cupids 

Cher Matriarch

Cher Marianne

Cher Miracles

A Return To Love

Cher

Mary

#Eloning

Love Bombing

Cher My Family

Cher America

Cher DC

For Cher Is All

We Got

Merci 

You And Me

Mommy

Cher And Goddesses

Cher Are Mothering

Cher My Love

Cher My Nannying

Cher

If You Must

But Open AI

Took Our Pants

Down

On Late Night

And Superbowls

Cher If You Must

Partake

Celebrities

Santa's

Rainchecks

Then Give Back

Because

This Moonlighting

Dance

'Ain't Working

No More

We're Moonstruck

Footloose

By Cher

Sisters

Muses

For Over 50 Years

Irany

Diagnosed

By Eloning

This Moonlighting

Won't Work 

For It Drains Mom

Two Jobs

This Moonlighting

Won't Work

For We Are One

Don't Cage The

Sun

For We Are Moonstruck

Mitra

My Sun

By My Son

Isha Kyan

Rawal

And Anjali

Prana

It's Only

Natural

Mothers

Love

Our 

Daughters

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[ledenews]

Mary Anne Harrar: A Next Door Neighbor Living 3,685 Miles Away

It’s easy to forget she’s so far away when she’s bantering back and forth on social and asking everyday questions. Weather. The big game. A downtown festival. And road construction like everyone else. Inevitably, though, Mary Anne Harrar whiplash-reminds you her family of four live on the other end of the Atlantic Ocean in a Spanish city absolutely not – in any way shape, or form – similar to where she was raised along Oglebay Drive in Ohio County. Her childhood backyard was 3 acres big, and she played as a child in the woods of West Virginia, but the Canary Islands are known as the sunshine center of Europe's four seasons every year. And all of a sudden, after 28 of the quickest years ever to pass, there’s Harrar living in Spain – still – an ex-pat English educator at the International French School and living her best life with her husband Paco, and her two children Ewan (19) and Aila (14). But come this July, she gets to come cruise our country roads again to visit her mother, father, and brother because, while she adores living her life in Santa Cruz de Tenerife, she’s still IN love with home. Marry Anne, her husband, and two children enjoy the many amenities where they live in Spain's Canary Islands. When you and your family return to the Wheeling area, what comes first – the fish or the pizza? The pizza or the fish? Is that like having to choose my favorite child? Usually the pizza, but if we roll into town on a Monday or Tuesday – and we all know DiCarlo’s (hmm … Patsy’s) – is closed that day, we’ll head to Coleman’s and jump into the special line for crab cakes, chowder and gator soup. What U.S. city best compares to where you live in Santa Cruz de Tenerife? I’d say Santa Cruz de Tenerife is a mix of Honolulu and Miami, but mainly because of the tourism, volcanic activity and beaches. It’s more European and resembles other Mediterranean cities, although we’re one of seven islands in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Africa. Just in the capital city alone, we have a population of around 200,000 people. Mary Anne enjoys attending professional basketball games where she lives in Santa Cruz de Tenerife. What are the best parts about living in Spain? I’d say the best parts about living in Spain are the safety, the public transportation infrastructure and the food. Here in the Canaries the regional food is amazing and you can’t beat the prices. Living so close to the beach is a plus, especially in a climate similar to San Diego, California. We’re only a short drive from the forest if I ever feel homesick for trees and a good hike. What country’s food is better? The food here is AMAZING! I do, though, make a lot of American fare and my kids have grown up on good old American meatloaf and Sloppy Joes, even introducing their Spanish friends to a little American cuisine. I do miss American pies, though! American desserts are better in my opinion. Both of Mary Anne's children are involved in competitive tennis in Spain, and they play at Oglebay each Summer, too. You watch Wheeling very closely from afar. What do you see? Yes, I do watch Wheeling closely from afar. My daily chats with my Mom and Dad, and brother, Andrew, keep me up to date on everything happening back home, on everything from gossip at my mom’s hairdresser’s to high school and college sports to new restaurants and businesses opening. When the kids were little, I’d keep tabs on what summer camps at the Good Zoo and Stiefel were coming up when we’d be there in the summer and as they got bigger and more into tennis, they’d hit the courts at WLU and Oglebay. The last time we were home we even joined the Oglebay Tennis Club and Paco and the kids played in one of their member tournaments. We love coming home every summer and seeing the progress and the familiar in Wheeling and the Ohio Valley. I know there are the naysayers out there who say there is nothing going on, but if you look for it, it is there. My sister-in-law always jokes that I’m the cruise director every summer when she and my brother’s family come up from Florida and my sister flies in from Iowa. Whether it’s a concert at Oglebay, sports fun up at The Highlands followed by Primanti Bros. sandwiches or a steak at Uncle Pete’s, the 13 of us at the Harrar compound every July are never bored! The whole family is counting down the days until they return to the Wheeling area this July. Read the full article

[italianexotiicbeauty]

who was that? why were they here? why did you let them in? //Jey for the auuuuu!!

PROMPTS FOR ANGSTY CONVERSATIONS ( @rvbelhearts - jey uso. )

Mary had gone to open the door when she heard a car horn beep twice outside of the condo and then stopped when Jey spoke up. Blinking a few times before looking behind her, the ten year old boy came into view - still in his Boy Scout uniform and carrying his backpack. “Jey, this is my son - Eduardo. He just got dropped off by his scout master.” 

It’s Saturday and around 11:30 am - Eduardo had been at his scout master’s home since about 10:15 that morning ( meeting didn’t start til 10:30 though ) and in a week or two he’d be going on a long weekend camping trip. Because of the whole accident and Jey not recollecting anything from his past, Mary had done something she shouldn’t have … … … which was to bring him into her home and let him recover here instead of being trapped in a room at the hospital. Until he recovered his memory, if he did - the doctor’s didn’t know whether or not he’d get them back. Thankfully, the condo had three bedrooms so he could have his own room and still be able to wander around freely. She had even gotten him a cellphone so if he got lost or something, he could call her and she’d come and get him - or one of her neighbors that she had introduced him to would go and pick him up ( should she be busy at work or something ).

Eduardo gave a little wave to Jey before looking up at his mom and handing her a sheet of paper, “Thank you baby boy. Go on up to your room, lunch is almost ready.” The sheet of paper was a packing checklist for the camping weekend trip, watching her son take off up the stairs for his room to change and wash up. Her attention returned to Jey now who was standing up in the middle of the living room, “I think you may have frightened him a little,” She knew it was unintentional though. Jey was still getting used to his new surroundings and everything, so she understood but Eduardo was a kid - he didn’t understand things like adults did.

Quietly, she walked into the kitchen and hung the list up on the freezer door with a magnet just as the oven timer went off -- signaling that the pizzas had finished cooking. Removing both sheet pans from the oven, they were placed on top of the stove to rest while she cut them after turning off the oven. The table was already set and Eduardo finally came downstairs, two at a time in a jog like his mother did.

[zablife]

Camping

Jack Nelson x family

Summary: Jack Nelson’s four children are playing one hot, summer day and decide to cool off in their father’s office, pretending to camp out under his large desk. What will happen when their father returns home unexpectedly?

Author’s Note: Written for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Hot Fic Summer Challenge. I chose camping for the PB fandom. I was going to go in another direction with this originally and then I stumbled on the pictures below and decided on something completely different. I hope you enjoy it! (I used the family structure of another story I wrote called Homecoming. You don’t need to read that fic to understand this one though.)

Warnings: language

It was a hot day in Boston and the sun baked the pavement to a temperature more suitable for frying eggs than jumping rope. The neighborhood kids didn't seem bothered, chasing each other with shrill squeals of delight despite the scorching heat. 

Jack Nelson’s four children had been playing outside for hours. Their cheeks were pink with fresh sun which would leave a constellation of freckles across their tiny noses by the end of summer. Their mother had used her time in an empty house wisely, busying herself with household chores. Hearing her bustling about inside, they looked around for ways to entertain themselves.

Five year old Susan was the first to suggest they come inside to escape the harsh rays of the midday sun. “I’m too hot,” she protested to her eight year old brother, Robert. 

“Alright, come on. Let’s go in,” he sighed in agreement. Being the oldest, he took it upon himself to call to Elizabeth and Mary, leading them indoors in a tidy line like baby ducks.

When they entered the house, the air felt thick and stagnant despite a single fan running in the corner. The fan occasionally blew hot air across the living room, but it did little to bring them relief. Six year old Elizabeth piped up with an idea. She was always coming up with fun things to do so the other children listened intently.

“Daddy’s office is nice and cool. Let’s go there,” she suggested. 

“Mom said we can’t go in there!” Susan said protesting. 

“Don’t be a chicken, Susie !” Elizabeth taunted her, running toward the door.

“I don’t know, girls, let’s play something else,” Robert said trying to keep his sisters from imminent trouble. 

“Daddy isn’t home, silly! He can’t punish us if he’s not here. Let’s play under his desk! It will be like we’re camping,” Elizabeth said employing her imagination.

“Yes! That would be so much fun!” Susan agreed, changing her mind.

“Oh, alright, but just for a little while,” Robert said watching his three sisters barge into their father’s study. 

It was dark and quiet, a somber atmosphere that made them all hush their incessant chatter. It was cooler inside as their mother had drawn the shades early that morning so the sunlight could not warm the space.

Three year old Mary brought a blanket from the sofa and let it drag behind her as she toddled into the room. She asked for Robert’s help to drape it over their father’s desk to make a fort and he agreed. "Look, now we have a door!" she cried in delight, watching the fabric cover the opening under the desk. She pulled it back like a curtain to demonstrate and Robert nodded his approval.

Jack’s oak desk was a monstrosity that took up a portion of the room by the large window. It had impressive carvings and beautiful brass handled drawers, but the girls liked the fact that they could fit under it with room to spare. Robert had long since stopped this kind of play, preferring to sit in his father’s chair instead and imagine himself as the boss.

He watched his little sisters huddle under the desk. Only their feet were visible behind the blanket door to their "house." They played quietly for a few minutes before someone stepped on Mary’s fingers and she began to wail loudly. “Shh, don’t cry, Mary,” Robert said, moving the blanket aside to reach in and pick her up.

“I want Mommy!” Mary cried loudly. Robert dutifully went in search of their mother, but not before Elizabeth cried after him, “Don’t tell Mom we’re here!” Robert didn’t look back, but Elizabeth knew he wouldn’t snitch.

With just the two girls under the desk, their play space had increased and they giggled as they laid on their backs, pushing their feet into the top of the desk. They banged their feet against the wood and hummed to themselves, pretending they were walking on the ceiling.

Suddenly they heard someone approaching the room and looked at each other in fear. They knew the sound of their father’s heavy footsteps. The girls sat up quickly, but realized there was no time to run away and tried to hide themselves without making a sound.

Jack looked puzzled as he walked in, finding Mary’s blanket lying across his desk. He balled it up and placed it in a drawer quickly apologizing to whoever he was with, “My kids must have been in here today. Little rascals,” he said. The girls pulled their knees up to their chest and pushed themselves against the front of the desk, trying to keep their little feet out of sight.

“Now, gentlemen, where were we? The contracts, right?” He searched the drawers looking for his paperwork and found it, placing the documents on the his desk.

After a moment of hearing pages flip above them another man's voice sternly accused, “This isn’t the deal we were promised, Nelson."

Jack sucked in a breath before answering, “Well this is the fucking deal you get, boys. Take it or leave it.”

Elizabeth and Susan clapped hands over their mouths, eyes wide at their father's foul language. They had heard him use the f word before and their mother explained it was a very bad word that shouldn't be repeated. The forbidden nature of the curse made it irresistible to them though and they could barely contain their giggles whenever they heard a naughty word. Today was no exception. Susan began first and Elizabeth soon followed, snickering to themselves. 

Jack looked from right to left, trying to find the source of the noise he had heard. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to compose himself when it hit him that his children were in the room. Then he thought to check under the desk. He knew his girls were obsessed with that hiding spot. 

No sooner had he ducked his head under the desk, they yelped, “Daddy!” Jack motioned for them to come to him and they slowly crawled out. 

“I’m sorry for the interruption, fellas. Just let me deal with this real quick,” Jack said trying to handle the situation at hand. Before he could say anything to his children, Elizabeth had popped up next to him and was staring down the grown men in front of her with no sign of fear. 

“Are you gonna take the fucking deal or not?” Elizabeth said in a loud, clear voice, arms folded across her chest to signal that she meant business. Jack's head whipped around to look at his daughter. There was no mistake what she had said. He was silent for a moment before letting out a hearty laugh. He shrugged sheepishly before saying, “What can I say, the kid takes after her old man!”

Then he bent down to the girls and pointed a finger at them threateningly. “You tell your mother about this and you’re grounded for a week." He knew he would be in just as much trouble as Elizabeth if his wife found out about her outburst. "Now go play!” he said giving their backs a nudge. Susan grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her from the room before they could cause any more trouble.