#like. i love them both so it is a hard choice

[reignpage]

❀ In which husband!Nanami makes a big decision after your labour Tw: hard labour, difficult pregnancy, allusions to death, angst, not proofread

“Are you sure about this?” The doctor asks again.

Kento leans back in his chair, staring straight ahead at the older man before him. He notes, with a little humour, how concerned his doctor looks at the prospect of a younger, more virile man like him undergoing such an operation. There seems to be some stigma surrounding the quick and low-risk operation, almost as if the idea of any man willingly sacrificing an essential part of their identity, their manhood, is so abhorrent one must check again and again if they are certain this is what they want. 

And he is. 

If asked, and he’s sure when he discloses his decision to friends and family, they will ask, he’ll tell them it is the easiest choice he has ever made — second only, of course, to his decision to marry you. 

No matter how many times the doctor reminds him that contraceptives are satisfactory, that abortion is available up to twenty-two weeks gestation, and he might come to regret this later when the pain settles in, Nanami Kento will not change his mind. Not even when you, his beautiful wife, argued, pleaded, with him. 

You resented the thought of not being able to give him the big family he’s always dreamed of, but how could he possibly tell you, through your tears and the quiet suckling of the nursing baby in your arms, that you’ve already given him everything he could ever want?

That it isn’t a big family he wants but rather, simply, a family with you. 

Years of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted makes this one act extremely uncomfortable; defying you goes against his nature, after all. But he sees no other way to go about this. Perhaps it's just better to ask for forgiveness than approval on select occasions.

The pregnancy had been hard. The labour even harder. Lasting longer than twenty hours, the nurses and doctors rushed around, beelining in and out of your room with all sorts of expressions on their faces, ranging from professional sternness to mild worry to pure panic, all reflecting the emotions he wore on his own face as he waited outside. 

At first, things went smoothly — the overnight bag was ready by the door, your contractions were consistent and you were both able to get ahead of your water breakage. He was by your side throughout it all, holding your hand, brushing your hair back, going through breathing exercises, and giving you encouragements. 

You were anxious but excited, rattling off baby names as back-up plans in case the baby was 'giving off a different vibe,' worrying about the crib you both picked out, the colour of her room, and trying to remember every single advice you heard from your experienced friends. “What was it babies can’t have until much later? Ugh, I can’t remember now. It was something I really like and was super bummed I can’t let her taste until like centuries later. “

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?” You grinned at him.

His lips twitched.

“That’s all I get? I thought that was hilarious.”

He wiped the sweat off your forehead. “It was very funny, my love. I hope our baby gets your sense of humour. She’ll make for a successful clown.”

The eye roll you gave him, for one happy moment, convinced him that this labour was going to be just as they said.

There was nothing to be concerned about. Your tests were clean, there’s no history of complications, you followed the recommended diet and have been diligent with the vitamins. It was just going to be your standard birth and they have years of experience.

You’re in safe hands.

So why were you straining for so long?

Why were you screaming through gritted teeth, threatening to break every bone in his hand?

Why was he growing dizzy at the sight of your shaking body?

“Just breathe, sweetheart, alright? Breathe for me.”

You tried. You tried so hard. “Yes, y-yes, I am. Oh, fuck, Kento, it hurts. It really hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” Mouth dry, face flushed, and voice broken, he could only mutter empty promises. A true failure of a husband, unable to do a single thing to alleviate your pain. “Hang in there, please. They’ll sort it out. It’s all going to be fine.”

The nurses began whispering among themselves, too hushed and hurried for him to understand. "Is everything alright? What's happening?"

More people came in, crowding the bed and pushing him away. He tried to tell them you needed him by your side, that you needed something to hold, someone to keep your hair out of your face. He was being escorted out, wordlessly.

"Ken? Wait, don't leave. I'm scared." Your hand was outstretched and he fought, against better judgement, to hold it just for a second to soothe your worries. They didn't let him.

"It's okay, sweetheart. T-they're going to take care of you."

Hours flew by. He paced the floor, and answered all the messages and calls he received from worried loved ones with responses he didn’t really believe in but knew he had to: ‘she’ll be fine,’ ‘she’s in good hands,’ and ‘it’s probably nothing.’

Sitting on a cold, hard bench, in a large waiting room with people he could only hope weren't in the same position as him, Kento couldn't sleep. Instead, he listened to the incessant ticking of the clock, the dull thrumming of the TV in the corner, and the monotone voices of nurses talking among themselves.

He wasn’t in the room when your baby was finally out, missing out on her first cry, on watching that instant connection you talk about form, on being able to thank you.

They only beckoned him in with relieved smiles some time later. Finally, he could see you, could hold you, tell you how amazing you are. And he did. He held the baby too, small, beautiful, unable to even open her eyes, but had a great set of lungs on her, just like her mother. 

“Oh, sweetheart. She looks just like you,” he breathed out. 

You didn’t reply, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t smile. You simply held his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. The feeling of your cold, clammy hand weak and quivering like you were holding onto a thin rope just so you could say goodbye will forever haunt him.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong, love?" He turned to the nurses, tried to meet their eyes. "What's happening to my wife?"

The events after that were hectic and Kento, try as he might, couldn’t piece together what happened. Rapid beating and beeping, sudden shouts, baby taken away, and he was pushed out of the room. The last glimpse he had of his wife, the last glimpse he thought he would have forever, was of her spasming on the bed, surrounded by strangers in masks and stained robes. 

Alone.

Terrified.

Failed by her husband. 

Never again, Kento swore. Never again will he put you through that, the pain, the suffering, the fear. He’ll never drive you to the edge of life and allow you to teeter on your own. If it’ll be anyone, it’ll be him. It has to be.

You survived this time and he’ll do everything in his power to make sure there isn’t a next time — he’s not sure he could step up and be the father your baby needs without you.

His hand still shakes.

In his sleep, at his absolute worst, he hears your screams, holds your limp body, and grieves your presence. He's ashamed to admit he couldn't pick his baby up for days after, that he had let dark circles grow, allowed darker thoughts to permeate his mind, consuming him.

How could he possibly look in his little girl's eyes and know she almost lost her mother? That in a split second, everything you two built together could have burned down in front of him? That when it mattered most, he was powerless as a man, as a husband, and as a father?

"You've been washing the same plate for five minutes, Ken. I think you need more sleep," you said, hugging him from behind.

He had wandered into his mind again, running on autopilot as he washed the dishes. Clearing his throat, he forced a smoothness into his voice. "Yes, you're probably right."

"Are you still thinking about going to the doctors?"

"Yes."

You sighed. "I'll be okay, Kento. You don't need to do that. We're going to be fine. Let's just live as we always did and let the universe take us where we need to."

Wet hands clutched your dry ones. There was a firmness to them, unyielding and tight. When he spoke, his tone commanded attention, rendering you as silent as the baby sleeping in her crib. He didn't turn around, likely couldn't, for he knew if he did, his resolve might just crumble.

"I won't leave your life in the hands of anyone else. I refuse. Your life holds more value to me than my own and I will not spend it so carelessly, leaving it in the hands of the universe or God or whomever else. I can't see you go through...that again. I can't. I w-wouldn't survive it. And I know you want more children because you think that's what I want, but sweetheart, I need you. I need you. You may never understand what I mean and that's alright. The life we have is good. It's perfect. I can't risk it. I won't. So, I'm sorry but I don't think there's anything you can say to change my mind."

Pressing a kiss in between his shoulder blades, you said, "I know."

Unending, your patience is commendable — you don't grouch when he wakes you up in the middle of the night just to make sure you’re still breathing or get irritated when he insists on carrying the heavy lifting around the house.

He took off more time out of work, desiring nothing more than staying at home so he can keep you fed, can take care of the baby whilst you catch up on sleep, and help you shower on unsteady legs.

Every moment, every kiss on his knuckles, every brush of your hand on his cheek, every admission of love bears a thousand times more weight now. The persistent crying in the middle of the night, the mess, the diaper-changes, the vomit on his clothes don't frustrate him; they're a mark of what you and him had fought so hard for.

This is the family he’s always wanted. The family he must protect. 

And damn it all if he lets it, you, slip away. 

So, he says, calmly and with the most certainty anyone can muster, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Jello! Had some time to make this since my exam was pushed later. Sorry for yet another angsty piece, I just couldn't get the idea out of my head. It's very rushed, as I'm sure you can tell. I think I'm a little out of practice cause it's been almost a week since I last wrote something

Well anyways, this is just a snack to keep you guys fed whilst you wait for me on the other side

Blessing and good tidings y'all

[iydiamartinx]

THE TODD-LER PROBLEM

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader ft. batfam

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 2.9k synopsis: Jason gets hit with a magical regression spell during a mission and ends up… five years old. Still foul-mouthed. Still somehow armed. a/n: Don't ask me how or why I wrote this, it just happened... warning: This is utterly unhinged, its a crack fic

There were many things you expected when you opened your apartment door at 3 a.m.

Your boyfriend, Jason Todd, in full gear. Shrunken to approximately three feet tall. And trying to pick your lock with a paperclip. was not one of them.

You blinked once. Twice. “…Jason?”

The tiny figure looked up, scowling, with his tiny leather jacket zipped to the chin and a modified red helmet under one arm. His helmet was clearly a custom fit because of course someone on the team had taken the time to resize his gear. Probably Tim. Or Alfred. Or Jason himself while he’d been cursed into a fun-sized menace.

He tilted his head. “Took you long enough.”

You stared. “You’re three feet tall.”

“Yeah?” he snapped, voice high-pitched but filled with all the rage of a war vet denied his nap. “Well you’re late, an’ I’m cold, and some guy in a sparkly cape turned me into a—” he waved a tiny hand wildly— “a frickin’ gremlin!”

You stared.

“I mean child!” he corrected, stomping past your legs and into your apartment like he owned it. “A frickin’ child. I have to use a stool to pee. I’m livin’ in hell.”

“Excuse me—”

He pushed past your legs like an angry little linebacker. “Also, someone tried to feed me carrots at the manor. Carrots. Like I’m a damn rabbit. I had to escape.”

“Jason, are you seriously—”

“—And Alfred was this close to making me take a bubble bath.”

You raised a brow. “You love bubble baths.”

“Adult me loves them. Toddler me has dignity.”

You shut the door with a sigh, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. “Fine. One night. But if you pee on anything, I’m calling Bruce.”

30 MINUTES IN...

You stared at the miniature version of Jason Todd standing dead center in your apartment. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact he was now a child.

He stood with his arms crossed. Eyebrows furrowed. Scowling so hard his little nose scrunched up. The resized red helmet was sitting crookedly on his head, and somehow, somehow, he was still wearing a tiny leather jacket like it was battle armor.

“Jason,” you said slowly, kneeling down to his eye level, “where did you get the gun?”

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously smug. “Trade secret.”

“Jason.”

He pouted. “You left your sock drawer unlocked.”

You blinked. “My sock drawer doesn’t have—”

Realization dawned.

You groaned, standing up and rubbing your face. “You hid weapons in my sock drawer?”

“Of course I did,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What if you got mugged doing laundry?”

You turned on your heel, already pulling out your phone. “Zatanna needs to reverse this spell immediately. How is his five year old self more dangerous than his adult one.” You muttered to yourself. 

From behind you, Jason stomped his tiny boot. “I am not five! I’m five-and-a-half!”

You didn’t even look back. You just sighed and started texting Alfred for backup.

And possibly restraints.

Or duct tape.

Maybe both.

ONE HOUR IN...

You found him in the kitchen standing on the counter—barefoot, wild-haired, and determined. His tiny arms were stretched high above his head, fingers pawing at the top shelf with the sheer willpower of someone who believed they could reach it if they just tried hard enough.

“What,” you asked slowly, “are you doing?”

“I want Oreos,” he said, like it was obvious.

“There are Goldfish crackers right there,” you offered, gesturing to the open box on the counter beside him.

He looked at you like you’d insulted his ancestors. “I’m not a toddler. I have standards.”

He took them with both hands, giving you a small, pointed sniff of derision—as if your earlier suggestion of Goldfish had been not just offensive, but a personally insult.

Then, without another word, he hopped off the counter and disappeared down the hallway like a sugar-fueled cryptid preparing for war.

TWO HOURS IN...

You finally managed to corral him in front of the television, queued up some harmless cartoon with talking animals, and tiptoed into the kitchen to make yourself a much-needed snack.

When you came back, the cartoon was gone and you found him watching John Wick 3 with unblinking intensity.

You stared in horror. “You are not allowed to watch this.”

He didn’t flinch. “Too late.”

You snatched the remote from the armrest. “You’re five.”

“Five an’ a half!” he shouted, voice pitching up in outrage. “An’ I know all ‘bout vengeance! I lived it! Lemme watch Keanu!”

“No.”

“I will bite you.”

“You already did!”

He smiled. “And I’d do it again.”

You lunged for the remote.

He let out a feral shriek. The sound pierced the air like a banshee’s war cry. There was a flurry of motion, limbs, and one elbow jabbed directly into your ribcage. The remote went flying.

Somehow… you lost.

And there he was, not ten minutes later, curled in a blanket like a smug little gremlin, happily finishing John Wick 3.

You sighed, already pulling out your phone to call in reinforcements.

Alfred picked up on the first ring.

“Please tell me patrol is over,” you whispered, glancing warily toward the living room. “I need backup. Immediate. Preferably armed with sedatives and maybe a priest.”

There was the soft clink of a teacup on saucer before Alfred replied, calm as ever. “Master Grayson and Master Drake should be available in a few hours.”

You groan, “Anyone sooner?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” He said.

You hung up and returned to the living room.

Jason was kicking his feet now, reclined like royalty, humming the John Wick fight music under his breath. Every few seconds he’d mutter something like “yeah, get him, Keanu,” or “double tap, baby,” as if he were part of the director’s commentary.

By the time 300 started, he had risen.

He stood on the couch with all the solemnity of a war general addressing his troops, fists clenched at his sides. Then, with zero warning, he let out a piercing battle cry—“SPARTAAAAAA!”—and began hurling Goldfish crackers across the room like they were flaming javelins.

You didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You just slid slowly down the wall, sat on the floor beside the fridge, and accepted your fate.

THREE HOURS IN...

You were gone for five minutes.

Five.

You’d left him watching Love Island.

He’d finally—finally—fallen asleep, sprawled across the couch. The soft drone of British contestants filled the apartment, and for a precious, fragile moment, there was peace.

Just enough to sneak off for five minutes. That was all the time it took to use the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face in the vain hope that you could survive another hour of this gremlin-sized Gotham menace.

When you returned, Love Island was still playing on the TV and Jason was nowhere in the living room. 

“Jason?” you called out.

You heard a noise come from the kitchen

Your stomach dropped.

You rushed in, skidding to a halt just inside the doorway.

The drawer was open.

That drawer.

The one that held the scissors.

The duct tape.

Your spare burner phone.

And, apparently, your last shred of peace.

You turned around slowly—already feeling the weight of regret in your bones.

Tiny Jason stood proudly in your hallway wearing a cardboard chest plate, duct-taped shoulder pads, and your colander on his head.

He raised a wooden spoon like a sword. “I’m Red Hood 2.0,” he declared in a voice that was both too high-pitched and far too serious. “Call me… Lil’ Death.”

You stared at him in exhausted horror.

“…Where’s the rest of the duct tape?”

He gave a wide, toothy grin.

“In mah hair.”

Of course it was.

FOUR HOURS IN...

Alfred had finally sent backup.

It was Damian.

By that point, you didn’t care—anything to give you ten minutes of silence and the chance to remember what breathing felt like.

And for the first ten minutes, it was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

You froze in the hallway, a familiar sense of foreboding slithering down your spine.

Then came the scream.

“YOU LITTLE DEVIL!”

Tiny battle cries echoed from the living room, followed by the unmistakable clang of steel meeting something very much not steel.

You ran in to find Damian standing on your coffee table, sword in hand, while Toddler Jason swung at his legs with a plastic baseball bat wrapped in duct tape and thumbtacks.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

“He challenged me,” Damian snapped, breath steady as he parried a wild swing with the flat of his blade.

Jason bared his baby teeth, eyes gleaming with chaotic glee. “He tried to steal my Oreos and called me a baby!”

“Because you are,” Damian barked, deflecting another spoon-wrapped strike. “This is undignified!”

“I’m a toddler, you rich goblin!”

You slapped a hand to your forehead. “Jason, drop the bat.”

“NEVER!”

“Damian, he’s five!”

FIVE HOURS IN...

Damian was still on the windowsill, arms crossed, radiating hatred like a heat lamp.

He hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour. Not a single word since the incident—the one where he lost to a sugar-crazed toddler wielding a thumbtack-wrapped baseball bat and unyielding vengeance.

You knew that silence. Knew it too well.

He was plotting something. You just didn’t know what.

Not that you had time to dwell on it—because that was when backup number two finally arrived.

The door swung open and in walked Dick and Tim, both dressed down but wide-eyed, scanning the wreckage of your apartment like first responders to a war zone.

Jason—still pint-sized, still radiating the unholy combination of espresso and anarchy—lit up like a demonic Christmas tree at the sight of them.

“Well, well, look who finally showed up,” he chirped, spinning once in his little leather jacket and cardboard armour. “The Backstreet Boys of Disappointment!”

Dick froze mid-step. “I—what?”

Tim looked at you with the tiredness of a man who’d seen too much. “Is he still feral?”

“Worse,” you muttered. “He’s refueled. He ate three cookies and found my instant espresso jar.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “You gave him caffeine?!”

“I didn’t give him anything! He’s a damn toddler who still retained his lock picking skills!”

Across the room, Jason twirled dramatically and pointed at Tim. “Timmy,” he sing-songed, “wanna play hide and seek? I’ll hide… you seek therapy.”

Tim blinked slowly. “You’ve created a monster.”

You pointed at him with your coffee. “He was with you all when this happened.”

Jason pivoted toward Dick, eyes glinting. “Hey, Disco. How’s that permanent sidekick gig goin’? Still doin’ flips no one asked for?”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “You wanna go, tiny man?”

Jason smirked. “Bring it, Jazz Hands.”

And that’s all it took.

Two minutes later

Jason darted between them like a pinball on fire.

Tim lunged with a blanket like he was trying to trap a wild animal. Jason bit straight through it.

Not metaphorically—actually bit through it.

Dick went in next, trying to cut him off with a broad lunge, but Jason hurled a half-full sippy cup at his face with terrifying accuracy. It burst on contact. Sticky apple juice everywhere.

From the windowsill, Damian observed the descent into madness with narrowed eyes and smug silence. Like an evil cat waiting for the moment to pounce.

He chose his moment well.

With a cry of, “FOR HONOR AND BLOOD!” Damian vaulted from the sill into the fray.

He mostly landed on Tim. But the intent was there.

You stood in the doorway, clutching a first aid kit in one hand and your last shred of sanity in the other. It was unclear which would run out first.

Jason popped up from behind the couch like a goblin jack-in-the-box, eyes gleaming with the unholy thrill of chaos. In one hand, he wielded his modified bat like a sword. In the other, a full roll of duct tape, raised like a grenade.

“I DECLARE A BLOOD FEUD!” he roared.

Tim yelped and ducked just as the tape roll whizzed past his head and smacked into the wall with a dull thunk. “He almost took my eye out!”

“WHO GAVE HIM NEGAN’S BAT?!” Dick yelled, backpedaling fast as Jason swung in his direction with surprising force for someone who barely cleared three feet.

“He made it,” Damian grunted, trying to deflect the strike with a throw pillow.

The swing knocked the pillow clean out of his hands.

In the scramble to dodge the next blow, Dick and Damian collided—feet tangled, limbs flailing—and crashed to the floor in a graceless heap.

“WHO’S THE SIDEKICK NOW, SUCKERS?!” he cackled, arms thrown wide like a gladiator demanding cheers from the crowd.

On the floor below him, Damian and Dick groaned in tandem, still tangled in a heap of limbs and wounded pride.

You stood safely behind the armchair, one hand gripping your phone, filming the chaos. Might as well have some blackmail for later.

“You’re going to regret this when you’re big again,” you warned, deadpan. 

“I’LL REGRET NOTHING!” Jason howled, launching himself into Tim’s back like a rabid possum.

Tim shrieked, flailing. “GET HIM OFF! HE’S IN MY HAIR—HE’S IN MY HAIR!”

“He’s like a feral koala,” Dick muttered, as he untangled himself from Damian.

Jason clung tighter, teeth bared, voice giddy with power. “Say sorry for the replacing me and I’ll only ruin your eyebrows!”

“Are we seriously doing this now?” Tim, flailing, shouted, “I didn’t replace you! You died!”

Everything stopped.

For half a second, the air went dead silent.

“TIM!” you and Dick shouted in unison, horrified.

Jason’s response was to let out a piercing shriek of righteous indignation.

“YOU VOTED ME OFF THE ISLAND!”

“WHAT DAMN ISLAND?!”

From the floor, Dick wheezed, “We need to start a support group.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You’re all weak.”

“I don’t see you winning against him, demon spawn!” Tim barked, still trying to dislodge Jason from his spine. “You surrendered three minutes in!”

“I did not surrender,” Damian snapped.

Tim finally managed to pry him off with a desperate twist and a shove, sending Jason rolling back onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Everyone froze.

Jason huffed, catching his breath where he lay sprawled on the couch. His curls were tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering with unspent mischief. For one brief, shining moment, it almost looked like the storm had passed.

Dick rose to his feet slowly, warily, hands lifted in surrender.

“Okay,” he said, breathless but hopeful. “Can we finally all just… relax—?”

You took a cautious step forward, narrowing your eyes as you noted the look on his face. “Jason. What are you doing now?”

He turned to you slowly, far too slowly, a smile already creeping onto his face.

Dick glanced over, confused, just in time for Jason to pivot on his heel.

“THIS! IS! SPARTAAAAA!!!”

And then his tiny foot shot up and kicked Dick square in the jewels.

Dick dropped like a sack of bricks, letting out a high-pitched strangled wheeze as he crumpled back onto the floor.

“…Who let him watch 300?” Tim groaned, not even pretending to be surprised anymore.

You winced, trying not to look at Dick who was curled into a fetal position.

Jason raised his arms, victorious. “TONIGHT, WE DINE IN—WHAT’S THAT PLACE WITH CHICKY NUGGIES?!”

“…McDonald’s,” Dick croaked weakly from the floor.

Jason nodded solemnly, his reign unquestioned.

“McDonald’s.”

SIX HOURS IN...

You were exhausted.

The apartment looked like a toy store had exploded. There were still thumbtacks embedded in the coffee table, juice stains on the ceiling, and possibly a spoon lodged in the bookshelf. You didn’t want to know.

The others had practically fled—limping, muttering, and swearing.

And Jason? Jason had finally agreed to get ready for bed after a long, drawn-out battle of wills that involved one timeout, two bribes, and exactly ten minutes of him growling about how “Peter Parker wouldn’t last five minutes in Crime Alley.”

Now, he sat on the couch, arms crossed and sulking in a pair of oversized Spider-Man pajamas—the only ones you’d been able to find. His curls were still slightly matted from duct tape, and there was a Band-Aid on his cheek from another brawl he’d got in with Damian.

He glared at you over the rim of his sippy cup.

“This not over,” he mumbled darkly. “I know where you sleep. I’mma get payback.”

“Sure you will, Jason,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll put ketchup in your shoes.”

You tucked him in on the couch, pulling the blanket around him as he curled up like a tiny, angry cinnamon roll.

He muttered something else under his breath, unintelligible, mostly grumble. “…Night-night,” he muttered, already half-asleep. 

THE NEXT MORNING...

Jason woke up full-sized, shirtless, confused, and sprawled across your couch.

 He blinked up at the ceiling, brow furrowed, throat dry.

“…What the hell?”

You strolled in, far too cheerful for someone who had survived a toddler warlord just a few hours prior. You tossed your phone into his lap.

You strolled in, tossing a phone into his lap.

“Morning, Lil’ Death. I made a slideshow.”

He looked down at the photos. There he was—pouty, covered in crumbs, mid-battle with his brothers, wearing  cardboard chest plate held together with masking tape and colander strapped to his head like a war crown. One had him dead asleep with his face smashed into a pillow, cuddling a stuffed penguin.

Jason groaned into his hands. “Kill me now.”

“I’d rather show Bruce.”

His head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

You grinned. “Wanna bet?”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

For Certain

Summary: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x fe!Reader -> You're in a secret relationship with a long-time friend and Naval Aviator Bob.

Disclaimer: secret relationship, reader briefly mentioned to not have been treated well in past relationships, fluffy moments, friends to lovers, Phoenix beating Hangman at Pool. So much of Lewis Pullman has been on my feed lately, I wanted to write something for Bob. Not Proof Read.

“Hey, Phoenix. Where’s your wingman? Thought he’d be here to help with moral support, at least,” Hangman called from the otherside of the pool table. 

So far, she was out twenty bucks, but Hangman was getting way too confident for her liking. 

She had him right where she wanted him. Within fifteen minutes she’d have her money back and then some. 

Phoenix nodded in the direction of the bar. “Take a look for yourself.”

Whilst Hangman was distracted, she lined up her next shot. Jake just stood, dumbfounded. 

Tilting his head as he leaned on his pool cue, he hummed. “Seems our little introvert has game after all.”

Across the Hard Deck, Bob was sitting talking to you. 

His stool turned into yours, your legs practically interlocking, you laughed once again as Bob told you another story of his day at work. Meanwhile, across the bar, Phoenix took her shot and Hangman’s attention was back on the table. 

How the fuck was he losing? He was just winning. 

“Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

Bob looked to his team for a moment before turning his attention back onto you. “Nope. Well, other than ‘Tasha. Do you want them to know?”

You smiled and looked back at Bob. “Not yet,” you reached for his hand, finding it instantly in yours. “I like having our little bubble.”

Bob smiled and leaned in a little closer. “I really wish I could kiss you right now.”

You looked around the bar and the gods shone on you both because a large group of tourists passed the other end of the bar. “Quickly.”

With his hand in your hair, you smiled into his kiss. He’d kissed you like what felt like a million times before, and yet somehow each kiss he gave you felt like the first. 

Bob wasn’t your first secret relationship, but he was the first to constantly make you feel loved. He knew how you’d been treated in high school; romanced in seclusion but ignored in public. He never wanted that for you. But it was your choice to keep your relationship a secret from his team. 

Most of them were like his family, but you’d met the most important to him. 

Phoenix. 

Pulling away, you felt Bob’s hand on your thigh under the bar top. And the way he looked at you…it made you want to melt. 

And go back in time and reassure your younger self that you had the right idea about dating your best friend. Even if your younger self wouldn’t believe you. 

Robert had been in your life for as long as you could remember. He was the son of your mothers closest friend, though you didn’t see him very much considering they lived so far away. Mostly it was at family gatherings and special occasions. 

But six months ago when you arrived in San Diego to interview for a new position in your line of work, your mom texted you and let you know Bob was in the area. So, if you needed a tour guide or a familiar face…he was one to consider. 

It hadn’t been until you’d walked into the Hard Deck by accident that same night that you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/n?”

A smile broke out on your face, “Bob?”

“Hey,” he smiled before hugging you. 

You’d been away from home for so long, and so adamant that you didn’t need someone with you, that it took a hug from Bob to realise you were grateful to see him. You didn’t feel awkward like you had done when your mom told you Bob was in the area, too. You didn’t feel nervous about seeing him or talking with him, or sitting at the bar for the rest of the night with him, reminiscing on old times. 

And, when travelling back home together for Christmas – your mother and his deciding it was a sign to spend Christmas together – that you started to develop a deep friendship with Bob. The kind that, that day after Christmas, you realised was more than just a friendship thing. 

You’d walked down the glossy wooden stairs on Boxing Day morning expecting to be the only one awake. But you weren’t. Just as you were thanking the Gods for underfloor heating, you stalled in your tracks. In the living room, Bob was picking up different pieces of wrapping paper and paper cups, shoving it all into a rubbish bag. 

The entire house was silent. And there was just something about his profile as you looked at him; tired but rested eyes, gentle hands and a slightly settled bed head. Something clicked. 

You liked Robert. 

You had feelings for your friend. 

However, you had been swiftly knocked out of your trance when you felt something skirt across your calf only to realise it was one end of your dressing robe’s belt. 

Bob had spotted you just a little before you let out a quiet squeal as you felt the fabric ghost across your leg. And he smiled at you with the kind of smile that sent a thousand butterflies of feelings and anxiety through you. 

“Morning.”

Crap. He has a morning voice.

You had to grip onto the entrance frame to steady yourself. Get a grip, woman!

Thankfully, you were able to compose yourself before you walked inside and towards the kitchen. “What are you doing awake so early?”

“Habit,” he answered. 

“Coffee?”

“Love some,” he carried the trash bag outside letting in a gust of cold air.

Once the door was closed again, despite the cold, you wished it was open again. You might have felt less consumed by him, despite the fact he was at least ten feet from you as he walked back towards the living room to grab the second bag. 

It took two more weeks, but out of sheer need and composed frustration, Bob had asked you a question. 

You were both back in San Diego by the first week of the new year.

You’d agreed to meet him at his home since he wanted to make dinner for you. But it was as the clock was approaching midnight and neither of you were making a move to leave the porch swing bench from under the blankets, he asked you if he could do something he wished he’d done on New Years. 

He kissed you. 

There was no going back after that. And you didn’t want to. 

And neither did he. 

Six months later, that comforting bliss was still intertwined between both of you. 

“I better go. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow,” you eventually told him. 

He nodded. “Want me to walk you home?”

You smiled but shook your head. “No, you should stay here.”

“I doubt they’d miss me.”

You tried to hide your smile, which only made Bob smile more. 

“It’s okay. I drove here, anyway. And besides, I think Hangman might need some moral support. Phoenix had been kicking his ass for the last forty minutes.”

Bob rolled his eyes but he agreed anyway. “I’m still Team Phoenix.”

You smiled. “So am I.”

“Let me walk you to your car, at least?”

You nodded. 

Bob called Penny’s name, leaving a few bills on the bar to cover your tab before you could pull out your card. Meanwhile, you laid your bag over your shoulder and Bob followed you out of the door, one of his hands loose in yours whilst his other traced up and down over the curve of your hip. 

Once he’d opened up your driver's door, you made quick work of pulling him close to you by his collar before kissing him properly. 

For a moment, he lost his balance as he leaned into you and you smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Once he managed to finally find his words, Bob nodded. “Always.”

You smiled, kissing him once more. “Good.”

But he stole a few more kisses before letting you go, waving you off as you pulled out of the parking lot. 

God, he was so in love with you.

He was gonna marry you one day. He knew that for certain. 

[cxvii666]

“DOWN WITH THE TRUMPETS”

“when i get down, i get respect now”

feat. denki k.

wc: 780

mdni 😴

“don't talk with your mouth full, it's bad manners.”

denki kaminari is a yapper.

he can talk for japan.

about nothing, and everything. about his little hobbies and interests, like the time he got really into origami for two weeks and folded fifty paper cranes before getting distracted by baking videos. about a bug he saw one time that kind of looked like pikachu if you squinted. about an anime he watched five years ago that reminded him of a tiktok he saw yesterday—actually, no, it reminded him of two tiktoks, and he’ll pull them both up even though you’re in the middle of eating.

he doesn't even realize he's doing it. he just talks.

before you started dating, he once spent two full hours explaining the entire five nights at freddy’s lore to you. he even brought a whiteboard. he drew a timeline. there were arrows, names, color-coded events. he kept glancing at you nervously, like he was waiting for you to run. you thought he was fucking psychotic, but according to all his friends that was his weak attempt at flirting.

he talks in his sleep too. full conversations. one night, around 3 a.m., he whispered, “gregory… you have to hide.” and you just laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what choices in life had led you here. he was completely out. you even poked him and he just mumbled something about “security breach.”

you didn't sleep much that night. he did.

you hear him on the phone all the time. he’s loud. his voice carries. you don’t even need to be in the same room to catch half the story. in group calls, he’s that guy—never letting anyone finish a sentence, always jumping back in because he just remembered another detail, or because he needs to relate something someone said to a completely different topic.

he narrates everything he does. it’s like living with a one-man podcast. making a sandwich? you’re getting a full tutorial with sound effects. brushing his teeth? he gives ratings to the toothpaste flavor like he’s doing a mukbang. finding a sock under the bed? live drama, complete with shocked gasps and a full backstory on how the sock ended up there.

he doesn't mean to talk so much, honestly, he can't help himself. he just… gets excited. he thinks out loud. he loves sharing things. his brain moves fast, and his mouth just tries to keep up.

"s-so sorry baby, your pussy just tastes so—mmf."

so sometimes you have to shut him up. the only way you know how.

his long eyelashes flutter against flushed cheeks, those bambi eyes of his wide and glassy as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

his fingers gripping the fat of your thighs as he drags your pussy back down onto his mouth. tongue greedy, he mouths at you like you're divine. slow, wet, sloppy kisses, tongue flicking then flattening, dipping in and out like he’s tasting something sacred. he hums against you, needy and messy and so, so fucking eager.

but as he pauses to catch his breath, you realise, he's still running his mouth.

with eyes locked onto the sticky mess he's made, his mouth is still moving, lips slick and parted as he mumbles god knows what into your pussy. eyes fixed on the mess he's made, like he's hypnotized. and the worst part? you can feel it. the vibrations, the breathy whispers, the praise he's spilling straight into your cunt. you strain to make out the words, and between the rush of blood in your ears you catch bits and pieces. "t-thank youuu, so fu-ucking good for me, you’re perfect, so warm, so wet, love you, love you, love yo—"

you roll your eyes and cut his praises short with a forceful tug of his hair. not too hard. just enough. it makes him whine into you, the sound all breath and heat, and you feel his hips twitch against the mattress. he loves it when you take control. he melts for it.

"denki, sweetie, what have i told you?" you sigh contently when his tongue starts doing circles on your clit, "no talking while you're eating."

he doesn’t answer with words—he knows better. just moans, all obedient and desperate, nodding his head so fast his blonde locs shake. sweat glistens on his forehead, some strands of hair sticking to it. you brush them away gently, and his amber eyes snap up to meet yours.

they're wide. glassy. brimming with devotion.

he's docile, pliable. he listens, does what he's told.

and for now, he's quiet.

but you'll keep him here until he's learnt his lesson.

[torglives]

on pangi and abandonment

awhile ago, on stream, lukey threw around the words commitment issues when talking about tr pangkey. it is more likely than not that he was talking about his own character, but a lot of the audience assumed he was taking a shot at pangi. which is very… hmm! not in a bad way, i think it just goes to show how easy it is to misinterpret his actions if you aren't clocked into the way he navigates his relationships with people.

he obviously has issues, but with his attachments they stem more from (i'd argue entirely from) his deep-rooted fear of abandonment rather than commitment.

pangi is passionately committed to people. this has never been something he's tried to hide or keep secret. it's something that cc pili mentioned during an on-stream ooc conversation about pangili/pangkey (watch that whole conversation, actually. he's nailed pangi's character very well. and his own obviously but that's a given. i love pili) -- "there is you who, i feel like you have separation anxiety to some degree. i feel like you're very "it's this person, or nothing." ... kind of like a ride or die situation." -- he brings up also, why this was such a point of contention between pangili1, because they had very different attachment styles, with mocha tending to lean towards avoidant attachment.

in the clip linked, a chatter says "abandonment issues hmm i wonder why (lifesteal)"-- and that's the perfect segway for me to drag ls pangi back into the spotlight. yay! i've said this before, but lifesteal and pangi's relationships on the server/throughout its history are probably one of the most important keys to really understanding him. on lifesteal, pangi has never truly been anyone's first choice. he devotes himself to people, to causes, but no matter how hard he'll ride or die for those things, it is never reciprocated. at his core, he is very lonely. he's not wanted in the way he wants to be wanted, but gives it his all anyway. it always ends the same way, he always ends up the same way: alone. quite literally abandoned.

of course this translates into the realm, and pangi finally finds someone who, to him, is what he's been looking for--his ride or die. his person, as much as he is theirs--in pili. it's pili or nothing, and this is the first time it's been mutual, so he plays it by ear. he lets it grow into co-dependancy willingly, because to be wanted is everything he's been looking for. but pangi is no stranger to abandonment, and during their first crisis, when pili says 'i don't trust you anymore,' pangi shuts down. he tries re-working over that open wound that pili left in his (VERY BRIEF) absence, because it's how he's learned to adapt. they, of course, come back together. and then pili dies, brutally, in front of him, with clown in mind. in february, after mocha died, i wrote this in an (outdated) (so i won’t link it) thought post:

pangi, as a character, is unable to linger. he feels the need to jump from thing to thing, never giving himself the proper time to sit and process. when his worst fear is proven, when he is shown that he isn't wanted or needed somewhere--he shuts down the part of himself that was trying to be wanted and needed. his way of 'staying on top of it all' is just adding another layer. he buries it under something new, and tries to forget about it and barrel onto the next thing. it never works.

which applies here too. i think it says everything i could even say. pili dies, and pangi is once again alone. despite his commitment, despite pili’s, it wasn’t enough.

and then ros and aimsey come along, and they’re kind to him--they get stuck in the null together, and nobody else can understand that outside the three of them. they both say things like "it’s us against the world," and "the three of us," and this works for awhile. pangi has people he can devote himself to, but this time it’s different, because there’s a disconnect--there’s a part of pangi that they don’t understand, the parts that more or less belonged to pili. pangi gives his all, but more importantly, his trust, but he’s never been great with words, and there’s no intrinsic understanding of violence like he’s used to, so it causes fallout. pili and pangi shared a similar mindset, that’s part of what made them work so well. for pangi, pili had aspects of home. ros and aimsey, despite how much they care, don’t understand that culture. ros breaks his trust, once, and to him, that’s abandonment. that’s always been a tell-tale sign of it. that’s betrayal, so pangi refuses to linger. he kills at the ball, takes the brunt of their anger, and leaves, because someone must leave. someone always must leave, so he does.

aimsey finds him a few days after, and says: "why did you think we hated you? it’s not like you do one thing that makes us upset and suddenly you’re the worst person in the world." -- but honestly, that’s all pangi knows. it’s all, or it’s nothing.

he still cares about them, so much, but it has put a permanent strain on their relationship, on his trust for them, because they don’t understand each other in the same way. he cannot be truly devoted to them, because he has been shown that they are not truly devoted to him. and that’s not their fault, not at all, it’s simply a gap in understanding. it’s something that pangi doesn’t understand about them, or them about pangi.

what’s that quote? "if you give me the slightest hint of abandonment and withdrawal, i would outdo you."

i could go into detail about the intricacies with his relationship with lukey too, but if you compare them to the points i’ve listed i’m sure you can draw the conclusions yourself--why they work so well, aligning in areas that have been missing.

people are very familiar with his hate, because it burns bright and is unavoidable. people are less familiar with his love, just as passionate, because it is easier to overlook, it’s less common. he is undoubtably devoted to those he hates and those he loves, and is consumed by how he feels for both of them. he will always commit, but is terrified at the slightest taste of being left behind, of being a second choice. of not meaning to others what they mean to him. again. it’s all, or it’s nothing.

[intermundia]

the ends the villains got in this season were so poetic and eminently justified to me. dedra, partagaz, they got what they deserved for their arrogance and ambition, their cruelty and selfishness, and all their contributions to the oppression of an authentically evil empire. syril died unrecognized and unremarkable, a traitor to the rebels who were foolish enough to trust him, and a patsy for an empire and a lover who didn't. dedra was jailed like a common laborer, everything she hoped to avoid, unwittingly helping the enemy create the chaos she despised through her own arrogance. partagaz fell on his sword for his failed leadership, the words of nemick some of the last things he ever heard. the writing of the show didn't excuse any of them, or allow time for their redemption. the audience could feel sympathy at their own discretion, but it was not particularly encouraged. they did terrible things, and were punished in the narrative.

the ends of the heroes were equally rich and earned. luthen died the way he always expected and maybe intended, by his own choice, finally caught, though it took some help in the end. i think the person most openly rewarded ultimately was bix, who held hope in her arms in an idyllic setting, standing amidst a crop ready for harvest. i think some of her trauma will linger on, but she was able to make things right, and punish her torturer, prevent others from suffering as she did. we saw that she went through an ugly period of healing, and it took many years, but in the end she survived, and found a peaceful life. vel lost her great love, the struggle cut cinta's life tragically short, but i think the narrative left her future with kleya open, maybe they could have a new story of their own together. they're both profoundly damaged people, but so capable and with such good intentions.

and of course cassian's story began with the end already told, it was already over, and nothing could be done to change it. the story could only ever manifest it. all his love and loss, it was all setting him up to pass a vital torch, and be a messenger of hope when the galaxy needed him most. i always knew such a rich prequel series would make the tragedy of rogue one hit harder, and as i watch it now, it does. there's so much weight to his presence, all his history and complexity. it was a tremendous loss on scarif, such a powerful sacrifice of such a good person, who did hard things others wouldn't or couldn't. he tried, in the service of the cause of freedom for the galaxy. so many things had to happen in order to make it possible to destroy the death star and ultimately destroy the empire, and the remarkable, precious thing is that they did. it happened because of so many small acts of service and dedication, so much loss. i think the series was profoundly successful in telling that story.

[all-pacas]

Top 10 Chase moments.

wait it's. it's hard to think of ten. what are the criteria. wait

in no order, here's 10 things i enjoy:

whenever he bonds with a kid, especially since he does it the same way every time: give them candy and talk to them on their level (about girls with the kid in cursed, aliens with the kid in cane and able). he's sooooo big brother (you ever notice, btw, how he's not like this with teenagers. he is so dismissive of teens he hates them so much. reason #87 retcon sister makes so much sense to me)

he's lowkey such a troll? i love when he lets his inner petty self shine, making fun of cameron in spin nonstop, poking at foreman and pretending he wants to be in charge in s7, he really enjoys Instigating and it's very silly

this is turning into a personality trait list uhh another moment i like: that petty side of chase rarely manifesting into stubbornness. in cursed he's mad at rowan so he decides to brute force test for EVERY auto-immune disease out of spite. in post mortem he's mad at treiber, so he decides to lock himself in the basement and brute force symptoms out of spite. he's so lazy 85% of the time and then he gets annoyed and works his ass off and is so good at it. house absolutely must hate this about him

in "poison" there's a moment where the kid is having a seizure and the subtitles say CHASE: Stay calm, and the words that chase utters are "stay cool, mate," and i think this is so funny. inexplicably

when cameron describes his apartment as "decorated by a drunk rugby player." so specific. so mysterious. i don't know what it means but i'm sure it's atrocious.

him becoming best friends with park's grandma. incredible. a++. it's funny on the face of it, them hanging out and playing card games, but it's also both sad and heartwarming. this man just wants a family!! it took him almost forty years but he's getting there!!

i love the running joke that chase isn't just good looking, but THE most attractive human on the planet, a 15 in the world of 10s. in the world of the show, other characters are average to good-looking (not beautiful actors), but not chase. he is THAT pretty. it is so funny to me. cameron was hired for her looks but chase is the one house spends more time objectifying. incredible.

his utter lack of fashion sense. his sweater-vests are an improvement over his horrendous color and pattern coordination, but it's still such an... old man fashion choice, you know? there are so many ways to style a shirt and tie and look fantastic and chase consistently goes "no, i will dress like a 60 year old/in the dark instead."

that his retcon sister calls him robbie. this COULD be a childhood nickname, but i also absolutely believe chase is the type of grown man who, in his late thirties, would still introduce himself as "robbie." very rich kid of him. love it.

whenever, despite chase's stated desire to be distant and apathetic and aloof, he completely fails. falls over himself, dripping compassion and empathy. he hates the nun in damned if you do; the second she gets upset he trips in his haste to pray with her. he sees thirteen upset and spends all of after hours desperately trying to help her. he's mad as hell at cameron in lockdown, but the second she starts crying he drops everything to comfort her. he is so fucking bad at this!!!

BONUS, RELATED TO ABOVE: that chase is the world's worst liar. i bet house has invited him to poker night entirely to clean him out and win thousands from him. i bet chase thinks he's a pretty good liar but literally no one has ever once been fooled.

[inawickedlittletown]

Through The Darkness To The Dawn (BuckTommy) - 8x17 coda - 2/2

Notes: I started writing this right after watching the episode. I wanted to get into Buck's head and also sort of deal with the Eddie of it all because I really do think he has quickly become my least favorite character in 9-1-1. I don't think I'm alone in that.

The title comes from Nobody Knows by The Lumineers

Summary: Buck is grieving and Eddie is just kind of the worst. 8x17 coda.

Words: 3.5k

Read on Ao3

Part One

-

Part Two: Love Is Deep As The Road Is Long

Tommy: Hey. How are you?

Evan: Okay all things considered. 

Tommy: I’m sorry. 

Tommy: How are you? 

Tommy: If you need anything, let me know. 

Tommy: I heard you guys are going back to work tomorrow. Good luck. Be safe. 

Tommy: Hope you’re doing alright. I figure you’ve at least read my messages so that’s something, but if you want me to stop texting, let me know. I don’t want to bother you, but I do want to know that you’re okay. 

Tommy: Hey, they asked me to be a pallbearer at the funeral. Figured I’d let you know so it’s not a surprise. 

Evan:  👍🏻

Tommy: Wish we’d gotten a chance to talk, but I know how hard today was. It was for me too, but you told me once he was like a father to you. If you want to talk about it or anything at all, I’m here, Evan. 

Tommy: Hey, wanted to see how you’re doing. Crazy, all this stuff with the water. Be safe out there. 

Tommy: Hey, just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. It’s been a few weeks, but I know what he meant to you. I’m here, Evan. 

Buck: Are you home? 

Tommy: I am. Do you want to come over? 

Tommy opened his front door when he heard Evan’s truck pull into the driveway. He stepped outside and waited. For being so close to Summer, there was a bite in the air, but Tommy ignored the urge to go back inside to grab another layer. 

Since the funeral, he hadn’t heard from Evan or really anyone from the 118. Tommy understood. He also knew that he didn’t belong with them, no matter how much he wanted to. They were a family and they didn’t need him, the interloper who didn’t even have the excuse of dating Evan to be included. It was, in a way, helpful for him to know that they all had each other and could deal with it together. He figured that they would all most likely just close in with Evan right in the middle. 

It had been a bit of a shock, if he were being honest, that he’d been asked to be a part of the funeral, that he got to walk with the 118. After the funeral, he’d had a moment with Ravi and Hen, got to hear how they were both doing, but he’d seen Eddie and Evan leave together. He couldn’t leave well enough alone, so every few days he texted Evan. Just knowing that he did read the messages was enough. If he ever turned off read receipts, Tommy would be devastated. 

Did Tommy hope that eventually Evan would answer? Maybe. But he just wanted Evan to know that Tommy was a text or call away and that he would always answer. It was the very least he could offer because what Tommy wouldn’t do is try to be where he wasn’t wanted. At the first sight of Evan, Tommy wondered if that had been the right choice. 

“Hi,” Evan said, voice a little raspy. 

He looked defeated. Grief struck and sad. It wasn’t that Tommy hadn’t expected Evan to still be grieving, it was that he had never seen him this…well, diminished. In that moment, it felt like something or someone had taken grasp of Tommy’s heart and squeezed for how much it hurt to see Evan like that. 

Tommy had yet to shake, even after so many weeks, the image of Evan collapsing in that hallway. He didn’t know if anyone else knew about that moment, because when Evan came out after going through decontamination, his eyes had been rimmed red and swollen but he’d been far more put together than Tommy had expected. A little out of it, maybe, but holding it together. Tommy didn’t think that Evan had even noticed that it was Tommy that made sure he made it home. 

As he stepped towards him, Tommy opened his arms. “Hey, Evan.” 

Evan collapsed into him. He was cold and shaking. He sniffled. Tommy wrapped his arms around him and heard Evan sigh. 

“You’re freezing,” Tommy said. “Let’s get out of the cold.” 

Evan kept close, but he let Tommy steer him inside. He also let Tommy settle him into the couch and wrap the throw he kept over the back of it around him. 

“Tea,” Tommy said. “You need something warm.” 

“Okay,” Evan said. 

Something was wrong. More than Bobby’s death. Evan looked like the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders and he had no one asking him if they could help him carry it. 

Evan followed him to the kitchen, leaned against a counter as Tommy got the electric kettle on. He moved to his mug cabinet and then chose two tea bags. Chamomile Lavender felt apt considering the time. He kept looking back at Evan. 

“Can I ask what happened?” Tommy asked. 

Evan moved towards him and Tommy lifted an arm so Evan could press himself into him. He was shaking a little and Tommy didn’t think it was all the cold. Evan didn’t say anything and Tommy figured that maybe that was what he needed. So he held him until their water was ready and even then Evan kept close as Tommy poured the water into their mugs. 

“Couch?” 

“Couch,” Evan responded. 

They situated themselves, Evan wrapping the throw over his shoulders and curling into himself, legs tucked in under him, his hands cradling the mug. Tommy sat next to him, let his knee rest against Evan’s knee. 

“I went to the beach,” Evan said. “I think I was out there too long.” 

“Why the beach?” 

Evan shrugged. “The stars. Good place to talk to Bobby. I keep trying to…I don’t know, find him? It’s stupid, I know, but…”

Tommy blew over his cup of tea. He saw Evan do the same.

“It’s not stupid,” Tommy said.  

“I spoke to him right before,” Evan said. “That night, I mean.”

Tommy had known that. He’d seen it. The door had closed with Bobby on one side and Evan on the other and then Bobby took off the protective gear, 

“He told me I’d be okay but I think he was wrong. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

“Oh, Evan,” Tommy said. “I don’t think he meant you’d be okay right away. No one expects that.”

Evan scoffed. His face twisted into anger and Tommy knew almost right away that there was more to whatever was going on with Evan. 

“Is someone expecting you to already be over it?” 

“More like that I’m making it all about me.” 

Tommy put his cup down on the coffee table, leaned towards Evan and placed his hands on his knees. Evan’s eyes were watery and Tommy was filled with a combination of adoration for this man and also a wave of sadness and protectiveness. 

“Losing someone you care about is about you, Evan,” Tommy said. “It’s about everyone that lost him. Who? Tell me who said that to you.” 

Evan took a sip of his tea. He winced a little. “It doesn’t matter.”

People did strange things when they were grieving, but he knew Hen and Chim would never make Evan’s feelings less important. Neither would Maddie. That left Ravi and Eddie which really did just leave Eddie. Unless it was someone else…Evan’s parents? Another friend that Tommy didn’t know? Someone else from the 118? Gerrard? 

“Well they’re wrong,” Tommy said. “Your feelings and your loss and your grief are about you. They’re about you and Bobby and maybe they overlap with how everyone else is feeling, but that doesn’t make you or what you’re going through less important. Sweetheart, you are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met and I know you haven’t been putting your grief and your feelings above anyone else’s. I know you.”

Evan let out a sob and he shook enough that Tommy reached to steady the tea mug before Evan spilled it, grabbing it and setting it aside. He took Evan’s hands in his own. He rubbed the back of Evan’s hands with his thumbs.

“You’re not selfish, Evan,” Tommy reiterated. “In fact, you could do with being a little more selfish.” 

Evan leaned forward and kissed him. Tommy hadn’t expected it, and it was over before he could properly kiss back. 

“Sorry,” Evan said. “I just…I shouldn’t have but I—”

“Don’t ever be sorry for that.”

Evan’s lips turned up a little. “So it was okay?” 

“Better than,” Tommy said. He reached over to touch Evan’s cheek, wiped a tear away. 

Evan leaned into his touch, closed his eyes for a split second and then opened them again. 

“You don’t see me like everyone else. Not…not in a bad way. You know, Eddie said I didn’t do enough…that he doesn’t know what he could have done to save Bobby.” 

Eddie Diaz. Of course. 

Tommy supposed that if he really thought about it, no one else could probably break Evan down this much. Well, Bobby probably could have, but he never would have. Tommy hadn’t thought that Eddie was capable of it either, wasn’t he supposed to be Evan’s best friend? 

“He said I never considered what it was like for him to wake up in the middle of the night to hear about Bobby, how he had to tell Chris—”

“Who else would have told Chris?” Tommy asked and then shook his head. “Not important. Sweetheart, he wasn’t here because he moved to another state and even if he was here, it wouldn’t have made a difference. You know that. I know you know that. We did everything. Do you think I don’t question it, wonder if there had been anything at all to change? There was only one dose. The only person we can blame for all of this is Moira.” 

Evan closed his eyes. He gulped. “He’s just feeling guilty he wasn’t here.” 

“Which is not your fault and that’s him making his choices your fault, the one thing that isn’t about you. Just answer this, what difference could Eddie have made? Really?” 

Evan opened his eyes again and he nodded. “I think I know that Eddie being here wouldn’t change anything. We, uh, we got into a fight.” 

“Clearly,” Tommy said. Maybe a little too deadpan. 

Evan’s lips twitched, but then settled back into a frown. 

“I was so mad,” Evan admitted. “Figured we’d clear the air the next morning but…Anyway, I thought he left, but it turns out he just went to get Chris from Texas. Tonight I came home expecting no one to be there and instead he was there with Chris and his Aunt Pepa. So after she left, I left too and I went to the beach. I couldn’t…I couldn’t handle being there with him in that house. I still can’t go back knowing he’s still there.” 

Fuck Eddie Diaz. Had he even apologized to Evan? Had he bothered to notice that what he’d done had shaken Evan down to his core, made him question things about himself and how he was dealing after losing someone as important as Bobby was to him? Somehow, Tommy didn’t think so. 

Thinking back, Tommy didn’t know why he’d admired their friendship? Maybe because he saw how much Evan put into it? But, it didn’t seem like he got any of that back. You couldn’t give and give and give without getting anything back. Tommy had some experience with that, in fact, and he hated that he hadn’t seen that it was the dynamic between Eddie and Evan. 

“Stay here,” Tommy said. “If you don’t want to go back there, you’re always welcome here.”

Evan gave a short but thankful nod. 

Tommy squeezed his hands and then let go. 

“Tea’s going to go cold,” he muttered. 

Evan took back his mug, brought it to his lips and sighed. Drank some more. 

“It’s his house, you know? I really thought that I was finally settling into it but he’s still here and I just…it doesn’t feel like home anymore. I don’t know that it ever did.” 

Tommy didn’t know what to say. Had it been a little strange for Evan to be living in Eddie’s house? Maybe. Had Tommy maybe taken it as a sign of something that he was hoping even more than ever that he was wrong about? Probably. 

“When’s Eddie going back to Texas?” 

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “No clue. He doesn’t tell me anything. I think we was supposed to leave a couple of days after the funeral, but then he just stayed. Soon, I guess. He, uh, he got the job with the station in El Paso but I had to find out from Ravi about it because Ravi thought I already knew and because Hen was planning a surprise barbeque she didn’t bother to tell me about. That’s sort of what started the fight when I asked about it.”

Tommy probably didn’t do a good job hiding his reaction to that. 

“It’s not…it’s not just Eddie,” Evan said. “It’s all of them. I’ve tried so hard to be there for them…but they don’t like it or appreciate it or even really need me. They have each other and I’m just on the outside of that. I guess Bobby was wrong about that too. He said they would need me. They don’t.” 

“Evan,” Tommy said, “I’m sure that isn’t true.” 

Tommy couldn’t imagine the 118 splitting in any way, but then he supposed with Bobby gone that might be the thing that did create some cracks. Grief did crazy things to people. Tommy brought his own cup to his lips. It was still warm and he’d always loved the smell and taste of chamomile tea which was probably leftover from his mom loving it so much. There was comfort in it and he hoped that Evan felt that. 

“It is,” Evan said. “None of them want to talk about him or about how they’re feeling or…or anything. Hen and Chim keep just going off together while at work. I heard Chim say he doesn’t know how to build the crib for the baby and I’m right here. I know how. I did it the last time for Jee. Guess he forgot all about that. Ravi at least is trying to make things normal. I just feel like I’m floundering and none of them…none of them care.” 

“They do,” Tommy said. “You know they do. They’re your family and they’re grieving too and maybe they don’t know how to approach you because they know that you lost more than just your Captain.” 

Evan took a huge gulp of his tea, his eyes darted away, looking over the room as if Tommy had changed anything since the last time Evan had been there. He blinked away more tears. 

“How, uh, how have you been, Tommy? I’m sorry I never…I wanted to answer your messages but it just, I couldn’t.” 

Tommy allowed himself a smile. 

“I know, I figured. I’ve been alright. Sad when I think about him and about that day. God, I really wish things had gone differently. I liked Bobby a lot. Respected him even more. He was a good man, a good Captain. He made his impact felt in the 118 for anyone that worked under him, me included.” 

When they finished their tea, Tommy took both mugs back to the kitchen. Evan followed after a beat, the throw no longer around his shoulders. Tommy left the mugs in the sink, made sure the backdoor was locked and turned off the lights. 

“Are you sure I can stay here tonight?” 

“Yes. Tonight. Tomorrow. Any night, Evan. I’ll set the guest room up for you.” 

Evan shook his head. “No, you don’t have to.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “It’s not a—”

“No,” Evan said, stepping closer towards him. “I was thinking maybe I could sleep with you?”

“Oh?” 

Pink colored Evan’s cheeks and there was a glint in his eyes that was very familiar to Tommy. 

“Just to…just to sleep,” Evan said. “I want…can you just hold me? I mean if you…that is if you’re okay with that because I can understand if you’re not and I know I just kissed you and maybe that wasn’t what you—”

His words were tangled together, coming faster and faster and Tommy stepped closer, grasped his arms gently. Evan stopped mid sentence. 

“If you need someone to hold you, my arms are right here, Evan. Come on, it’s getting late.”

It almost felt like deja vu to get ready for bed with Evan. Their shoulders brushed when they stood by the sink brushing their teeth and every once in a while their eyes would meet on the mirror. Evan’s eyes still had a sad quality to them, it wasn’t something that would leave any time soon. Tommy bumped their shoulders. 

Evan had deposited his phone on Tommy’s bedside table and at a glance he could see several missed calls and texts. 

“Do you want to answer any of these?” 

Evan shook his head. “I’ll deal with that tomorrow.” 

It was easy to arrange themselves in Tommy’s bed. Familiar. Both of them were on their side, Evan in front of him and happily snuggled into Tommy’s chest. 

“They didn’t have enough time,” Evan said. 

“Who?” 

“Bobby and Athena,” Evan said. “I keep thinking about that.” 

He wasn’t wrong. It was the tragedy of death. Tommy had seen Athena at the funeral and he had been wholly impressed by her poise, the way that she held herself together. No one would have blamed her for showing more emotion, but that just wasn’t who Athena was. He’d heard she was already back at work but that wasn’t much of a surprise and she probably needed the distraction. Tommy didn’t know what he would have done in her shoes and just thinking about it made him want to hold Evan even tighter, to bundle him up in as much protective gear as he could just to make sure that Evan came home every night. They weren’t even anything, but Tommy knew that losing Evan would devastate him.

“I was there when they met,” Tommy admitted. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, it was a call to a stab victim, I think. Anyway, the assailant was a rooster and after Bobby captured it, he just handed it to Athena. Maurice, that was the rooster’s name.”

Evan chuckled. “Wow. Doesn’t beat taking a helicopter out into a hurricane, but…” 

Tommy rolled his eyes fondly. “Our first meeting is very unique. That was Bobby’s first week in LA.”

“I forget sometimes,” Evan said, “that you knew him from the start.”

“I did,” Tommy said. 

Evan let silence settle between them and Tommy almost thought he was asleep, but then Evan turned and they were facing each other. 

“Evan?” 

“I know it’s probably not the best time to say this, but I don’t want to waste any time when…anyway, I’m sorry for what I said that day. You know I only said it because you kinda hit a nerve insinuating I could ever have feelings for Eddie…I mean he’s my — my friend, but he’ll never be anything more than that. You know that right?” 

Evan’s hand reached up to touch his face, fingers skirting gently over his cheeks and his thumb landing on his cleft. 

“I don’t think he’s even a friend to you, not really,” Tommy said. 

He saw Evan frown, but he didn’t deny that. 

“It’s not about him,” Evan said. “I don’t want any more time to go by without you knowing how I feel because anything could happen tomorrow so…I love you, Tommy. I think I have for a while.” 

The words felt impossible. A part of him, the part that ran when things got hard and that couldn’t actually believe in the good could almost believe he’d imagined it. Evan was right there, though, inches from him. Tommy was touching him and Evan’s fingers were still on his face. Waiting. Watching him. 

“I love you too,” he responded. Knew it was true. Felt it.

“Good,” Evan said, grasping his chin. He pushed forward and kissed Tommy, just a quick sweep of his lips. It felt like a promise.

Evan burrowed his face into Tommy’s neck, yawning. It didn’t take long for him to succumb to sleep. Tommy was up just a bit longer. He felt so protective of Evan and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it when the morning came. The Evan that had arrived at his house tonight was still more than a little damaged by the loss of Bobby but worse was whatever had been happening with Eddie as well as the rest of the 118. Knowing Evan, he would forgive and move on, but that didn’t mean that Tommy had to. 

He dropped a kiss to Evan’s head and slowly drifted off. 

In the morning, Evan was still there safe and warm in his arms, but he blinked slowly awake as if realizing that someone was watching him. 

“Hi,” Evan said. 

“Hi,” Tommy repeated. “How are you?” 

Evan let out a sigh. “I don’t know, but better. It helps, having someone in my corner.” 

“I’ll always be in your corner, Evan.” 

[thebroccolination]

I CHOOSE SUFFERING

I’m trying to make a video compilation of KristSingto talking about the BL industry and queer identity in Thailand from 2016 to today, but fuuuuuuck it’s hard to keep it under ten minutes (the maximum on TikTok).

Behold:

It’s juuust under 15 minutes now and I’m down to what I thought were essentials before.

There’s one interview in particular from 2018 that I took a big chunk of, but I want to keep it because it kind of encapsulates some of the horrors they had no choice but to live through gracefully. Like a reporter point-blank implying that Singto was responsible for Krist’s breakup. In front of Krist. Who looks like he’s about to cry. And Singto just has to give as professional an answer as he can to what’s essentially “we’re also assuming you’re having sex and we’re going to paint you as the villain of a make-believe scenario in which Krist’s ex left him because of his love for you.” And then, very softly, Kit asks them to please not blame Singto since he had nothing to do with his breakup, and can everyone please focus on their work please?

2018! They were done with “SOTUS” and “SOTUS S” by then! “Until We Meet Again” would start filming the next year!!!

I wanted to make this video compilation with dates and ages included since these two age so slowly. But like, look:

They were twenty-two and twenty-three fielding absolutely batshit judgmental questions about their sexualities at an awards show. Asking Kit if he’s afraid no one will date him because he’s in BL, asking both of them if they’re afraid of being perceived as gay, fueling toxic fandom fantasies of Singto coming between Kit and his ex—

They were the first in the line of fire, and going through these early interviews, I have no idea how they got through it at all, let alone with as much kindness as they have now. There isn’t a drop of toxic masculinity in either of them despite being relentlessly taunted and belittled for their profession as BL actors.

I say it all the time, but I really am incredibly, profoundly proud of them and the legacy they’ve created.

[cuboftea]

Uuuuugh love this so much.

I really wanna write a dynamic or see it explored how they end up feeling about each other. Most of the time i see Bow being written as jealous or indifferent, but what if after hearing about Bot, Bow has no qualms about their existence. Even though she knows why Bot was created, its hard to look at them and visualize them as a clone of herself.

However, once Bow starts watching Season 3 out of curiosity, a new thought sits in her mind, one she never thought would be an issue cuz of how she loves her girls at the mansion.

No one really liked her until after she died. When she can’t visit or be about of her own choice, and when she used her ghost powers to help. If Marsh hadnt felt guilty, no one would have ever seen her, or cared. They felt guilty enough to build a robot, but didnt even believe to see the real thing when they first went to the mansion.

Bot was still tolerated more by everyone when they were acting like her, and especially more so when they became them. Was Bow really that much of a bother? That they’d prefer anyone else, even if they felt bad?

And with Bow not really being in tune with complex emotions, she hates this feeling. It starts to be in the back of her mind and spoils her precious time with anyone at the mansion. She starts to doubt if Marsh cares about her or feels guilty and obligated to be there. She knows Knife and Dough have no choice.

If you pair that with the robo suit fix, Bow would probably feel even worse. That she has to be the one mimicking Bot, that it would remind every one of the two. And even if she could go out whenever she wanted, would people start to go back to hating her?

Unfortunately, them avoiding each other makes their paranoia worse. Bot thinks Bow hates them, and struggles with feeling like a failed version of Bow. While Bow thinks that Bot avoiding her is due to feeling above her. While everyone is somewhat right about Bow being upset, the reason she is has nothing to do with Bot themself, but how everyone reacted to it. Reacted to her. In her mind Bot has no reason to feel like the other bow when theyre even more cherished when they broke away.

At this point she feels like the other, annoying version of Bot. That she was better off being in the back of everyones minds, never in the spotlight.

Idk, i feel like it would be interesting if the conflicting feelings were a two way street that both have to cross. That Bow can realize that Bot doesn’t think of themself as superior, and for Bot that Bow never hated them at all, and thinks their new style is super cute. That if anyone wants to fix these messy feelings its ultimately up to only those two on how they wanna redefine it. And they find when they shut out their worries about everyone else, its not actually that hard to like each other. Bot is incredibly sweet and fun, and Bow can be really funny and enjoys being a part of someone’s antics.

:o

[multi-stays]

Use Your Words

Paring: Confident!Dom!Minho X Whiney!Dom!Jisung X Subby!Male!Reader

Genre: PWP / Smut 18+

Note: Sub!Felix is included in the fun

My Pookies: @dis-trict9 @lezleeferguson-120

Masterlist

Warnings: Dead Dove: Don’t Eat, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Orgy, Mentions of Alcohol, Swear Words, Exhibitionism, Cum Eating, Handjob, Kissing/Groping, Pet Names (Baby, Bae, Etc)

“Finafuckinglly, now I can sink my dick into something,” Minho said taking another large gulp of his beer as you walked into the room. Felix drove you over seeming he wanted to join and you wanted to drink. He promised he wouldn't drink any to drive back and when Felix promised something he always kept it.

Han took each of your hands to lead you into their room. It was supposed to be a spare bedroom for Han but he preferred to sleep with Minho so they turned it into a room just to have sex in. It was easier this way especially when they both liked having sex with multiple partners at the same time and things often got messy very quickly. They would often leave it dirty and then clean it weeks later when they wanted to use it again.

“I'm down to go first,” you said taking your pants off and lying down on the table. It had a pillow so you could rest your head comfortably over the edge and was lined with a soft fabric.

You lifted your head and looked behind you to see Minho and Han kissing. They groped each other as they took off their clothes paying no mind to anyone else in the room. Felix just sat in the corner with an obvious erection from watching them rub on each other with his lower lip stuck in his teeth.

You lay on the table fully exposed, waiting for the love birds to separate when you felt a hand across your ass. “Don't think I didn't hear you making noise,” Minho said spreading your legs and pushing his dick in your asshole hard.

A low moan escaped his lips as he slowly started to move. “Baby can I?” Han asked tilting his to the side with his big boba eyes visible and he knew Minho couldn't resist.

“Of course you can,” Minho said railing your ass harder telling you to behave and open up. You opened your lips so Han’s half-hard penis could easily slip into your mouth and he wasted no time gathering momentum.

His groin touched the tip of your nose every time he pushed in and he made it very difficult to breathe. His salty precum gathered around the corners of your mouth and started to drip down onto the floor.

You were used to this and enjoyed it so much. Being used and played with in multiple ways so your mind didn't know how to process where you were being touched or fucked. Even Felix watching you made you more horny and somehow wanting more.

Minho slapped another firm hand across your ass as he grunted with each fuck into you. “Gonna fuck you till you can't think and your gonna take it, aren't you?”

When Minho asks a question it's always important to answer or you would have a punishment of Han’s choice and Han was never forgiving. They were a team during sex, even when they weren't directly fucking and it was always hot to witness.

“But I wanna fuck his ass too,” Han said in a whiney tone. Minho didn't plan on pulling out until he orgasmed, so reassuring Han was important if he wanted to get there. “Don't worry, Bae. He’ll hold out and give you a turn as well, won't you?”

You were fully gagging on Han’s penis and soon he would surely orgasm. His movements had slowed in fear he'd finish in your mouth but judging by Minho’s tone, if you didn't answer you'd be punished. “Mhmmmmm” was all you could push out. Humming around his head as he pulled out of your mouth gently and let go of your tangled roots.

The freckled boy in the corner was squirming in every direction as he watched Minho rail your ass as if his life depended on it. The way his head stretched you open then the rest of his length just glided through so easily had him mesmerized.

Minho had noticed the large amount of noise that was pouring out of Felix and he had a plan after he was done.

~

When Minho’s cum was pouring out, he pulled out of your ass and let Han handle the rest. The way his throat bobbed up and down as he guzzled Minho’s cum without a problem was always your favorite part.

“Ok, your turn Bae,” he said patting your ass but Han didn't get up from his spot on the floor. When Minho realized Han was jerking himself off cause he started orgasming when he drank his cum, he felt bad. Soon Han was sitting in a puddle of mixed cum but he didn't mind, swiping his finger across the floor he flashed Minho a cute smirk before bringing it to his lips.

He sucked every inch of his finger, making sure it was clean before he stood up. Han cradled Minho’s face and kissed his puffy red lips. “Can we play with him?” Han asked motioning toward Felix who was practically cumming in his pants. “I have an idea.”

Minho had the look of the devil when he walked up to you. “Get up” he demanded and you obeyed, standing up on your wobbly legs. He grabbed a handful of your hair and forced you to kneel in front of Felix.

Felix’s breathing was erratic and he was obviously nervous or maybe just horny, you couldn't tell from your angle cause his eyes were shut. Han gently undid his belt and slid his boxers down till his twitchy cock was free. The cold air hit his penis and caused him to wince. “Well? Go on,” Minho said grabbing your hair again and guiding you down on his length.

Felix was notably smaller in length than Han or Minho so it was a break for your throat but Minho still made it ruff. Both you and Felix noticed the fast pace Minho was setting and adjusting to it was hard for both of you.

Han put his two fingers in Felix’s mouth and whispered in his ear after a soft kiss. “He feels good, doesn't he? Suck my fingers for me.”

When he removed his spit-covered fingers from Felix’s mouth he lifted his shirt and rubbed his nipple, coating it evenly. Moans poured out of Felix as his achy cock was getting attention both from you and Han who spat a hot stand of spit where you were connected.

As Felix started to buck up into your face Han leaned over Felix and caught him in a sloppy kiss, biting his bottom lip and devouring his face. They were both whiney messes as Han put Felix’s hand on his cock and he rubbed his tip with his thumb. It was a sinful sight and you got so caught up in it to where you weren't paying attention to what you were doing. When the hot cum hit the back of your throat it went up your nose and made your eyes burn.

Felix’s low moans made Han wild when they were against his lips and he would let him pull away from the kiss until he was done ramming his semen down your throat.

~

Minho let go of your hair with a shove and placed his arm around Han before opening the door.

“Wipe the cum off yourselves, or don't and come on,” Minho said with a chuckle.

“Let's watch a movie or something,” Han suggested as they both walked out.

You grabbed a towel and cleaned yourself off before throwing it at Felix. “Coming?” you asked but Felix didn't respond, just nodded while looking at the ceiling. You shut the door to let him regain himself in privacy and made your way towards the laughter in the living room.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 12 Into the woods

Chapter 12 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- okay but I kinda really love how this chapter turned out.

Warning- fluff?, ANGST, talks of violence and death, talks of suicide attempt , spoilers for season 2, Remember this is a rewrite not an AU, so the major stuff that happens in the show will happen here :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader (platonic of course :), OC x Fem!reader

Episode- 2x03-2x04

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

“We went to make them pay. Sorry we had to do this the hard way, but you didn’t leave us no other choice. We asked and you turned us down. Now you have to trust that we will come back.

-Dina and Ellie”

“It was stuck to her door?” You ask as you lift the note and show it off to Jesse, who has read it over and over again as if that would bring them both back, or make it any less surprising. It didn’t.

“Yes,” Jesse answers hesitantly as he looks at you with pity and concern, and then flickers his eyes to Apollo with shame. “I’m sorry I came here so early. I really am. I just,” he pauses and focuses on Apollo as if ready to hear his friend get mad at him for involving you, but Jesse shouldn’t worry about Apollo. It’s your Uncle Tommy he should worry about. He seems more bothered by the fact that Jesse chose to come to you instead of just privately going to him. After all, you just barely started talking and getting out of the house; this could mortify you more.

“I thought you needed to know,” Jesse explains his reasoning, but doesn’t make it sound any better to your Uncle. If he had the chance to lie to you about this, he would’ve chosen that because as he looks over at you, he sees you set the note down and drop your face in your palms to try and gather your racing thoughts that don't leave you groggy. You’re left wide awake after reading Ellie’s note—or should you say Dina’s note, there’s no way Ellie would have written so much down. She would’ve made it short and straight to the point.

“I mean, I know they’re both reckless, but to do this? This is something completely beyond reckless and stupid.” Jesse adds, as you start rubbing your temple and revisit what Ellie said, because she’s right, you’re late. Too weak. You knew she was up to something stupid, and you didn’t stop her. You’re too late.

“What do we do with this now?” Jesse keeps filling the silence while Apollo is more worried about how you’re going to take this since you’re being quiet.

“Maybe we can still stop them, or,” Jesse pauses and sighs deeply, choosing to stay quiet instead of finishing what he was going to say.

“Or what?” You finally speak and drop one hand off your face, letting it smack against the dinner table.

“Go after them. I mean,” Jesse goes on hesitantly. “Knowing Ellie, we won’t be able to bring her back now, but maybe we can go after her. Save her and Dina from getting killed.”

Going after her was the first thing you thought of because you know, just like Jesse, that trying to bring Ellie back would be impossible. She’s put her mind to a mission, and it’d be hell to try and convince her to come back.

However, among the many other reasons not to go, you share the most important one that you think about the most. “I’d be the last person she would want after her,” you mumble, piquing all three men’s interest.

“We got into an argument yesterday after the meeting,” you share, and avert your gaze by looking at the note again. “I won’t go into detail, but she basically told me that she never wants to see me again.”

Jesse lifts his eyebrow, expecting more since he doesn’t know the depth of your argument or the hurtful things she said, since you don’t want to badmouth her.

“So you’re going to listen to her?” Jesse asks with disbelief, interrupting your uncle before he can speak up.

“I,” you pause and sit up straight before you take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, she made her choice. Who am I to stop her? I already tried. I told her not to go, that there is no point, but she got mad.” You say with frustration about your own failures, and because even if you understand that Ellie was mad, the things she said still deeply hurt.

It was the same when you were young. You’d try to help, but you’d always get yelled at and hurt. Only this time it hurts so much worse because it makes you want to die.

It's no exaggeration, that’s the truth, because it’s a truth that is tearing away at you as you speak.

“You’re her sister,” Jesse argues without an ounce of hesitation or shame—“isn’t that point enough? Regardless of what she said?”

You stay quiet and glance at Apollo this time as you think about your other reason not to go.

You have a family now. You can’t just abruptly leave for something that doesn’t guarantee you’ll make it back. They don’t deserve that, and you can’t just do that to them. But Jesse is also right…Ellie is your sister. Would your dad stop from going after her even if she said hurtful things to him?

He would go in a heartbeat, so you…should do the same to help the girl you love, but…there’s so many reasons telling you to stay.

“It is point enough,” your uncle finally chimes in for you and looks at you ever so softly as if a look alone could cause you harm. “Of course, Sunny of all people knows that the words our siblings say at the heat of the moment don’t mean anything, but it’s not easy. For either of us. We can’t just grab a backpack and leave the moment we decide to. Maybe you get that, Jesse, or maybe you don’t. Maybe a couple of years down the line, you’ll realize, but either way, we can’t be as bold with our choices as you.”

Jesse drops his head with shame, and your Uncle leans towards you with even more tenderness. “Don’t break your head over what you want to do. I’ll give you…until tomorrow to think about it.” He says and pats the empty space on the table.

You slowly meet his gaze and feel relieved by his suggestion, and feel that pressure to know what to do decreasing. Yet it doesn’t all vanish.

“Will you go?” You ask your Uncle, knowing Jesse wasn’t asking for permission but more so support before he left.

“I,” your uncle pauses and sits back with his eyes flickering away. “…Don’t know. I’ll think about it too,” he says without looking at you once, but you never give that too much thought.

“Can we really risk being two days behind them?” Jesse blurts, causing your Uncle to snap his gaze to him.

“It’s a risk we have to take and can fix if we choose to go,” your uncle mutters before looking over at you and finding your gaze again. “A day, hm?” He repeats and looks between you and Jesse.

“Okay,” You nod stiffly.

Jesse waits a moment to see if you’ll add anything else, but you go quiet, and your Uncle gets up and looks at him before pointing his head at the door.

“I’m going to head out now,” your Uncle announces as Jesse gets up from his seat. “You think about it.”

You nod again, and Jesse interjects. “Again, I’m sorry I came over so abruptly,” he says, making you drift your eyes to watch him.

“We already told you, it’s okay,” Apollo reassures the young man as he gets off of his chair.

“I’ll go find you later,” you assure Jesse and your Uncle, making Jesse nod in comprehension and making your Uncle linger back before he follows Jesse out of the house, making Apollo see them out.

When Apollo comes back to the dining room, he sees you in the same spot, but this time you have the letter in your hand and you’re reading the letter again with a deep sorrow in your eyes.

“What are we plannin’ to do?” Apollo asks now that you’re in the comfort of each other's privacy.

“I…genuinely don’t know,” you confess and drop the letter to look at him. “A part of me is telling me to go. She’s my sister and she’s risking her life in this cruel world, so even if she says that she doesn’t want to see me again, she still needs me.”

“Tommy is right, when we say we don’t want to see our siblings again, we don't mean it,” Apollo tries to comfort your bleeding heart as he sits across from you to be able to take your hands in his. “She’s mad, but she hasn’t forsaken you.”

You look at him, teary-eyed eyed and finally share everything she told you yesterday. “She said she hated me, Apollo. And maybe I deserve to be hated, I lied, but…how will we go back to what we were? How will she forgive me?”

Apollo sighs and, with a pitiful frown, says a hurtful truth. “You won’t ever get back what you had, but you can get past it. You will get past it.”

You let out a shaky breath and drop your head before you wipe the tears off your face, causing him to caress your knuckles and look at you with more pity.

You’re starting to hate all this pity.

“Another part of me is telling me not to go,” you cut in. “Not for any petty reason, but it’s not as easy as before, you know.” You breathe out deeply.

Apollo nods in agreement before he interjects. “Think about it like Tommy said,” he says without the reassurance that he’ll support whatever choice you make because deep down he hopes you won’t go. He’ll understand if you want to, but it’s like you said, it’s not as easy as before.

“I will, hopefully by today, I don’t want to leave Jesse waiting or have the girls get too ahead,” you say, and let that take over your every waking thought. How could you think about anything else with such a heavy and hard choice to make?

You go out to your garden to think, but you don’t come out with your mind made up, so you try to keep busy inside your house, but nothing comes to mind. You then go for a long walk, hoping that will help you, but you keep debating with yourself. The only thing you end up doing is ending up in front of your dad’s abandoned house.

You don’t know what led you there; whether it’s because of instinct, or because deep down you wanted to come visit his house to find an answer, you don’t know. You just know you’re in front of the driveway, hoping once again that you’ll find him on his porch, but…he’s not there. You can’t even be reassured by the fact that Ellie is in the garage because she’s gone too.

The house is alone. Lifeless and abandoned, with only memories of what was haunting the dust-covered halls.

Even so, as depressing as that is, you still step foot past the threshold that once kept you away, and make your way to the front door.

When you reach the door, you lift your hand with the intention to knock, but you remember that no one is inside, so before you can overthink the matter, you grab the doorknob and open the door.

What once was a warm place lively with comfort, now is a sad reminder of who you lost. Now, there’s no father to welcome you inside, and the smell of coffee doesn’t waft in your nose.

Usually, the lights inside the house were hardly on; he didn’t excessively brighten his house like you or Ellie do, but a light was usually on. Now, there’s only a dull light that fills the house because the sun hides under thick clouds.

Even so, you don’t turn to walk away. For the first time since he died, you step foot inside the house and close the door behind you, expecting nothing; no greeting, no head peeking around a corner, and no distant voice telling you where he is, but oh, the house comes alive with memory.

In the living room, you hear snoring as the TV quietly plays, so you follow the noise and on the lazy-boy, you see the memory of your dad asleep with your infant son asleep in his arms.

In the dining room you hear the commotion of faint laughter, metal clinking against plates, and different conversations across the table, and when you walk to the room, you see a warm light brightening the room and your family dining without a worry, almost as if life held no monsters and everything was normal.

You want to relive just one night. You want to have dinner with the whole of your family again and make one more memory, but the kitchen calls you. The memory of coffee brewing in the kitchen lures you over, and here to keep you company is the memory of you and your dad cooking and doing the dishes as you yapped away and he listened to every word.

A part of you wants to stay to be able to relive through those fond memories, but heavy footsteps thump in the hall, growing more distant as they get further away, so before you can get left behind, you follow after those heavy footsteps and end up at the foot of the stairs.

The haunting footsteps continue to echo on the second floor, but you’re in no rush since you get distracted by the photos your dad hung on the wall going up the stairs.

The first and most recent photo you study is a picture of your dad holding Teddy, who is looking away, but still relaxed in your dad's arms. The next photo you see when you go up a couple of stairs is one of you and all of your family gathered around the table. Ellie and your dad didn’t talk by then so they were at opposite ends, but they were still captured in the same photo, making it seem, without context, that they were a strong united front. If only it were true…

Nevertheless, you move up and the next photo keeps you put longer than the other ones because it’s one of you, Apollo, and your Dad on your wedding day. Your dad was in the middle, keeping you and your husband apart because the old man had a hard time accepting that his youngest daughter was all grown up.

It was funny then, but the memory is even funnier now.

Regardless, you reach the second floor and an end table decorates the end of the hall, holding different pictures and trinkets, but most importantly, it holds a happy picture of you, your dad, and Ellie captured on Ellie’s special birthday trip.

It was a long time ago, and it was the first trip you had together after the big adventure that brought you all together. It's a memory that should help you come up with a decision, but the truth is that you only get more upset over who you lost. So you move on instead, clueless as to what you want to do.

The next place you find yourself in is not Ellie’s bare room. You walk past her room and walk directly into your dad's room, feeling your heart crush when you walk into an empty room holding only memories of him. Not him sleeping on the bed, just an empty room and an empty bed holding a single box.

You grow curious about what the box could possibly contain, so you walk to it, feeling tears fall off your chin and get left on the floor as you hastily reach the bed. Once you get to the box, you don’t hesitate to open it, revealing to yourself that it’s his belongings he had on him when he…died.

There isn't a lot in the box, but you still only drive your focus to his broken watch that he refused to part with, not because it was a trusty gadget that told time, no, the old thing is broken. Which should be a reason to have abandoned it a long time ago, but the watch was a reminder of Sarah, and the last thing he ever gifted her. That’s why he kept it with him at all times, because it felt like carrying her with him.

Why would they make him part with it? Why didn���t they bury him with it?

If only you had been there. You would’ve made sure they were buried together, but…you weren’t there. You didn’t say your last goodbye…

…to either of them…now they’re both gone and you’re here, living on without them. Why?

“Why?” You ask yourself as you clutch onto your dad's broken watch before you turn to look at a picture your dad has on his nightstand, one of before the outbreak. A picture of you, Sarah, and him before the world ended, and where you were happy together.

You want to be with them again, more than anything else in this world. That’s what you want, and that desire, the picture, and the memory it brings, finally lets you come up with an answer.

Thus, you tuck the watch in your pocket and leave the house to go find Jesse first, since he’s more eager to leave.

Luckily, it’s not hard to locate him. You find him in the first place you check; his house, but there with him is your Uncle. They were looking over a map together.

“I decided,” you cut in abruptly, skipping past greetings and asking for explanations. “I’m going.”

“Sunny,” your Uncle Tommy finally parts from the table and approaches you, causing Jesse to back away.

You stay where you are and let your Uncle approach you so he can see how your face contorts with betrayal and frustration.

“I said I’m going,” you cut in confidently. “You can fight me or accept my choice. I'd rather you accept it because by the looks of it we’ll only have a hard time if you don’t.”

Your Uncle sighs and drops his head. “I was just looking out for you,” he explains without as much trouble as it would’ve given your dad to explain. “I’m just worried about you. You’re only now gettin’ better and you have Teddy and Apollo, and I—”

“You were selfish,” you cut him off and step towards him to tilt your head down so he can meet your gaze. “You have Benji and Maria, too, so where’s the difference in that? I can do it,” you proclaim. “I will do it because she’s my sister and she needs me.”

Your Uncle lifts his head, and you follow his movements so as not to lose his gaze. “Meet at my house when you’re done here. We leave today,” you say without giving more explanations.

“Are you sure?” Jesse asks for his own sake.

You look at him over your Uncle’s shoulder and nod stiffly before you step away from his front door. “Positive,” you assure him and then pass him a helpful comment. “Pack the necessities you have at your house. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He offers you a comprehensive nod, so you then face your Uncle and press again to not be at odds. “You go. I go. Simple as that. I’m…okay.”

Your Uncle takes a moment to process that, knowing you too well as to accept that right away, but you're as stubborn as your dad when you want to be, so he chooses to trust you now and gives in. “Alright.”

The corner of your lips tugs up faintly before you then leave and return home with your mind made up, but your heart heavy.

“Apollo?” You call out after you close the front door, but you don’t hear a response, so you walk further inside and check the kitchen and the living room, but he’s not there. You proceed to check the rooms, but he’s not in any and Teddy is not inside either.

Could they be out in town? Maybe.

Yet before you can assume that possibility, you check the backyard, and much to your luck, there they are in the wildflower garden along with your dog Hermes.

You almost don’t want to disturb their peace. You could admire them forever, but you don’t want to risk Jesse getting here and telling Apollo the choice you made, so after a couple of lingering minutes, you join your boys and your dog outside, earning happy reactions from the both of them.

“Ma!” Teddy exclaims and tries to walk to you, but you reach him first and swiftly sweep him off the floor with a beaming grin.

“Hey, cowboy,” you greet and kiss his forehead before you pull your head back as he shows you a single flower he picked. “Oh, would you look at that? Is that for me or you?”

Teddy brings the flower back towards him and stares at it for a moment before he accidentally drops it, making him squirm, so you end up putting him down so he can keep doing whatever it was that he was doing along with Hermes, and so you can take a seat next to Apollo on the bench swing.

“I finally made my choice,” you don’t delay the matter a moment longer, making him pick his eyes off Teddy to look at you nervously. “I’m going. Today.”

There’s no talk about a passionate motivation to go help Ellie from mortal danger. He, of course, thinks he knows why you’re going, and it makes your choice hard to swallow. Not because he doesn’t want you to help Ellie, but because it’s not so simple anymore.

“It seems that my Uncle and Jesse weren’t planning to have me go, but I caught them in time,” you share, but don’t catch Apollo by surprise because he had noticed your Uncle’s intentions from the moment the letter was shared—“So we leave today, just my Uncle, Jesse, and me,” you clarify, but get no big reaction from Apollo. He drops his gaze and sighs before he finally lets his thoughts be heard.

“Yeah, I…didn’t plan to be a part of the trip,” he confesses, leaving you more surprised than he was with what you just told him.

“We have Teddy,” he continues, making you look over at your son with guilt. “One of us has to stay with him. Why should we risk his life, or risk him being left…an orphan if Jackson is safe and one parent who can stay with him?”

You gulp as your guilt digs itself deeper, causing more ache.

“I wish I could go, but one of us has to stay with him, and as much as I wish it was you, I know this mission is important to you,” he continues to clarify his decision and turns his head to look at you while you keep watching Teddy as you try to take advantage of the time you have with him before you have to leave.

“That’s the only reason I’m even supporting it,” he says, and finally brings your eyes back to him. “I just,” he pauses and draws out a heavy breath. “Don’t know how many long goodbyes I have left in me.”

As if you had your breath stolen by him, you gasp softly and look at him with disbelief.

“I love you,” he quickly explains as he sees your reaction. “But things are different now. We have a son. A life together and…I don’t think it’s fair to me or him to uproot it for a trip that may or may not bring you back.”

You avert your gaze and clench your hands into fists.

“You know how much it hurts when people leave you behind,” he points out, making your heart skip a beat while also almost changing your mind. But it’s not enough because your dad's death is in the back of your mind like a plague.

“I do know,” you mumble and look back at him with reassurance. “I wouldn’t be leaving either if it wasn’t for Ellie, but…she…needs me,” you finally repeat your reason for leaving. “Whether she wants my help or not. I owe it to him to try.”

Apollo hums, and you take his hands to make one thing clear.

“But I also know I can’t water dead plants. I know my dad would never stop going after her, but I do know when to stop…there'll be no more long goodbyes after this one.” You clarify, making a soft smile tug on his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers before you let his hands go to wrap him in a tight embrace as if you were already saying your goodbyes when it won’t be for another little while.

“You are the best friend and best husband anyone could ask for,” you tell him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so lucky to have met you. I love you…with all of me.” You say against his flesh, making him grin and hold you tightly against him, to the point you find comfort in his steady heartbeat.

“I love you too,” he redirects. “You are loved so so much, so please come back, okay?”

You pick your face off his neck and rest your chin on his shoulder before you whisper back. “Okay.”

With no promise made and your first round of goodbyes shared, you then continue to watch Teddy play outside for a while longer until you have to go inside to get ready.

About halfway into packing the necessities you have in your house, Jesse and your Uncle finally meet up at your house and wait for a little while, but not as long as they assumed.

“You’re both carrying light,” Jesse points out as he sees that your backpack looks as light as your Uncle’s.

“For now,” you leave him more curious.

“Now,” your Uncle interjects. “It’s night now, so it’s the perfect time to get our horses and sneak out so as not to raise questions, okay? So just act normal.” He says without worry and expects you and Jesse to look the same, but Jesse looks lost.

“What about weapons? Are we just going to stroll in the armory and take what we need? Those are locked.” Jesse asks the most important question. “And food?”

You share a knowing look with your Uncle and Apollo before you decide to tell Jesse the secret early. “We have all that a couple of miles out of Jackson.”

Jesse blinks in disbelief, so you explain yourself further.

“Jackson is home. Jackson is safe, but we’ve been around long enough, and early in our years, we knew this man named Bill. He was…what my Daddy called an end-of-the-world prepper, so to make this story short, he warned my dad to always have an escape plan if we found ourselves in communities, especially because he had a daughter. My dad took that to heart, and he did exactly that. An escape plan.” You reveal with a smug smirk. “He hid a cache just outside of Jackson that he let a few of us know about.”

Jesse scoffs, and before he can feel proud over your father's genius plan, he asks one more question that immediately comes to mind. “Ellie left first. I’m pretty sure she emptied that.”

You scoff. “You really think we would let Ellie know?” You remark lightheartedly. “She would have emptied that a long time ago, knowing her, so we didn’t tell her. Weapons, food, flashlights, and everything we need is already there. I'm assuming you have a path mapped out,” you point out with a hint of annoyance, making your Uncle sigh deeply before he has no choice but to agree.

“We do, we just need to go collect our cache. So it begs the question, are you two ready to go?”

Without hesitation or anything holding you back, you nod to give him an answer before you confirm it verbally. “I’m ready.”

Jesse nods in agreement without so much as doubt, but what follows holds you back, so before you can leave, you turn to Apollo, but not with sorrow and uncertainty to leave. You look at him softly and completely enamored. “I love you. Always.”

He smiles back at you tenderly and without caring that you have company so close by; he smacks his lips on yours and steals a kiss.

Knowing this kiss will be your last, you capture his jaw to press him closer and spark a passion that makes you move ravenously. You almost don't have the heart or will to break away, but you taste a salty tear mix in your passion, so you pull away, but keep him close to take note of every feature on his face.

“I’ll be here. Waiting,” he says, pulling more tears out of your eyes. “My love. My world. My light.”

You smile at him tenderly and have to steal one last kiss.

Before you can part to give your son your goodbyes, you reach inside your shirt and pull out his old Firefly pendant to assure him. “I’ll have you close. Always.”

He scoffs softly and looks away shyly, letting you then move away to find your son in the living room playing on the floor with his toys.

“Take care of each other,” you hear Apollo tell Jesse while you go on your knees to grab your son's attention.

“Teddy, I’m going to be leaving now, okay?” You tell your son who is cluelessly gripping onto his toys. “You’re gonna be stayin’ with your Daddy, so you be good to him, okay?”

The baby blabbers and offers you his toy giraffe, so you take it and press it against your chest. “I’ll keep you close, okay?”

Teddy asks for his toy back, so you give it back with a giggle and then lean in to hug him tightly, causing him to laugh in response.

“I love you, my Theo,” you whisper. “Don’t forget me.”

Teddy stays in your embrace until you let go, and before you can completely part from him, you face him one last time and then force yourself away to make your way to the front door with Jesse and your Uncle trailing after you, and Apollo trailing after them.

Once you reach the door, you give Apollo one last embrace because if he went to see you off at the gate, people would grow suspicious, so he sees you to the door instead.

“Ready?” Your Uncle asks one last time as you face your traveling partners.

“Ready,” you and Jesse answer at the same time with confidence and determination

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

Thanks to your travel experience, you were able to help with some kinks to your Uncle and Jesse’s initial path to Seattle to avoid as many potential obstacles as possible. It is hard to know if you’ll come across something as small as a camp or as big as a town, but you avoid cities, highways, and freeways and stick to the woods and backroads where people usually don’t settle, and infected are least likely to roam.

Luckily, it’s just three of you, so you’re least likely to catch anyone’s attention. You don’t have a dog to help you with what you humans can't catch, but you don’t stop to loot anywhere and are never too loud or keep the light on too long. It’s not because you just set up camp to simply eat and sleep; you make conversation, you share stories, and laugh at jokes. You never disagree with one another because Jesse respects the plans of more experienced travelers, and you trust your Uncle, and he trusts you, but there, between both men and you, is a threshold.

Your Uncle sees it, but he doesn’t want to cross it. He gives you space because he thinks that’s the answer, and he likes to think he knows you more than he knows himself, but Jesse is different; he can see what your Uncle is failing to catch. It would be impossible not to, since you're on the road with no one but each other, but instead of getting closer on this trip, there’s always a barrier between them and you, and he can feel it.

Maybe it is because you’ve been on the road with only each other as company, so it’d be hard to miss, but it’s almost so thick that Jesse swears he can almost touch it with the pads of his fingers. It’s where you keep the person you really are and every emotion that riddles that you.

As much as Jesse wants to cross that threshold, though, you never let him cross it. You keep him and your Uncle at the other side and let them see an unusual bliss that feels inorganic.

“I see something brown,” you share, making Jesse search the area around you before he examines the sky to try and find what you spotted, making it the perfect game to keep you and Jesse entertained while also working to search the area for anything suspicious.

“That hawk circling the area over there,” Jesse points out exactly what you had seen.

“Yes,” you praise him with a smile. “A red-tailed hawk, if I remember correctly, right, Uncle Tommy?”

Said man searches the sky until he finds the distant fella and shrugs. “I wouldn’t know anymore. I only made you memorize them so we could get some teaching in while on the road.”

You groan and then look back at Jesse and add on. “Either way, it’s not very good to eat.”

Jesse scoffs with curiosity twinkling in his eyes. “Before or after?” He asks, referring to before Jackson or on your nationwide road trip.

“Before,” you let him know, and turn your eyes away from the sky when the hawk is out of view. “Of course, my Uncle Tommy, here, caught it. I helped…kinda. It moved too much for me, so we didn’t want to risk it then, but I helped locate it after we hunted it down.”

“Pretty much the same thing,” he jokes, making you giggle.

“I’ll say. Okay,” you focus back on the game. “Now you. Go. Last one. Make it hard.”

Jesse hums and his eyes search high up in the tall trees and down low at the horses you ride before looking at every green bush, colored plant, grey rock, and anything else you have yet to cross and that surrounds you until his eyes seem to lock on something.

You try to pinpoint what it is by following his line of gaze and blurting the first thing you see. “Fern!”

Jesse rolls his eyes and turns his attention to you. “No. Not close. Something…you can slip on if you are not careful.”

You press your lips together and search the area he had focused on to try and find what he said with the clue he gave. However, there’s no mud because it hasn't rained. There’s no moss that you can see. You can’t see flat rocks on the ground or any twigs that can get caught under your shoe.

“Bark?” You ask hesitantly.

A faint smirk tugs on his lips before he shakes his head. “No. Listen.”

You strain your ear and catch the call of the same Red-tailed hawk in the distance. You hear different birds chirping, and past that, you hear a rush of water, but you can’t see it.

That can’t be it.

“A river?” You ask with confusion, and as unsure as you are of your response, Jesse actually nods.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you smack your lips. “That ain’t close. I mean, I can’t see it.”

Your Uncle chuckles from the front of the caravan, and Jesse shakes his head with the smug smile still attached to his face. “Nope, but it’s not I-spy. We just have to find what the other person points out.” He says cockily, so you roll your eyes and sigh deeply.

“Whatever,” you grumble and then nudge your horse to pick up her pace and take the lead to reach the river faster. “We should fill up our bottles and let the horses hydrate,” you share your thoughts with the men who don't question you. After all, you won’t come across another body of water today or tomorrow.

Yet when you reach the river, you find out that it was loud enough to be heard from afar for a reason; the water is running faster, and it's higher than it should be.

“Melting snow and the recent storm?” Jesse asks for reassurance, so you and your Uncle give it to him because that is the only reason the water is so high.

“Yep.” You sigh.

Luckily, a wide tree has fallen over the river, so you will save time and energy by crossing to reach the other side, but how steady is it against the rushing water is the important question.

“We’ll cross one by one,” your Uncle suggests as you keep your eyes on the fallen tree to see if it’ll move.

“But don’t get off your horse. Just keep the pace slow and steady,” your Uncle adds. “Questions?”

You shake your head, and Jesse turns his head to look at him, but doesn’t give any notes. “Yeah. That sounds good. I trust you.”

You draw out a deep breath and nod along. “Me too,” you echo and then look back at the tree before you interject. “Jesse, you go first.”

Your Uncle and Jesse look at you, and they get ready to argue, but you snap your eyes to Jesse and insist. “Go. I’ll go right after you. Just don’t look back. Eyes forward and don’t panic or the horse will panic, hm?”

Jesse finds your insistence to go first annoying because he wants you to get across safely first, just in case something goes wrong, but there’s no point arguing. Thus, before you can waste any more time, Jesse nudges his horse and moves forward.

At first, the horse seems hesitant to climb on the tree because the river is loud and walking on a tree hasn’t been common for them to do, but after some sweet and quiet comforting from Jesse, the horse climbs on and slowly begins to take Jesse across.

You stay behind and don’t dare to move an inch because you don’t want to risk spooking his horse or even moving a pebble on the ground, in case that somehow makes the tree move.

You hold your breath and grow more tense by the second. A part of you wants to rush Jesse so he can get across as soon as possible, but the other part of you is logical and keeps you quiet as you watch every step with laser focus.

No part of you is at ease until finally, Jesse reaches the other side successfully.

“Great job!” You praise and clap for both the horse and him.

“Thank you, now come across,” he urges you without really soaking in the great achievement so as not to risk anything changing in the tree's stability or the rushing water.

Your Uncle takes that under consideration and presses you, too. “You heard him. Go. I’m right behind you. Nice and slow.”

You glance at him and nod in comprehension, but you don’t hesitate or take any of their warnings under consideration. What used to worry you and keep you tense doesn’t affect you now that it’s your turn. You don’t rush across. You take it slow and ease your horse on the tree, but you don’t hold the same anxiety that you noticed in Jesse when he crossed.

You don’t hold a sense of cockiness either. You just don’t care when it comes to you crossing. Maybe that’s what changed when you cross, or maybe it was just the rushing water smacking against the tree. Either way, the movement is small at first, it makes your heart skip a beat, and it makes Jesse and your Uncle move their horses forward.

The second time the tree moves, your horse slips. Yet you don’t react with fear and scream for help when you crash into the water and fall off your horse. You don’t panic when the force of the water shoves you under its angry waves either.

You feel a sense of relief, and when you hit the back of your head against a rock on the river floor, there’s ecstasy that rushes through your blood seconds before it all goes black.

At first, you expect the darkness to be fleeting. You expect to wake up and see the cloudy sky, but when you open your eyes, that ecstasy runs faster when you see your house.

Not your small yellow house in Jackson, no. You’re in front of your house in Austin, Texas. You’re home, and it’s just as you left it before the outbreak. Nothing is overgrown, the windows aren’t broken, and the roof isn’t crumbling. It’s in a perfect state, and you don’t question why it’s so.

You don’t even ask why you’re standing in front of it. You just grin with genuine glee and cut across the lawn. When you reach the door, you hesitate to steady your heartbeat before you open the door and immediately get greeted by everything you once knew.

Everything is the same. Nothing is out of place, not a pillow on the couch, and not a speck of dust. The one difference is that the sun shines through the windows, brightening and warming up the living room. Oh, and there’s a smell. A good smell that awakens your appetite, so you follow it across the living room and into the kitchen, noticing right away that it’s lively past the back door. There’s a long picnic table outside adorned with a simple yet cute white tablecloth, and plates and silverware are set on top of it waiting to be used.

Who did all this? You ask yourself, and slowly walk to the back door to try and see who’s outside.

Yet before you can even reach for the door, someone walks up to the door, someone you spent missing longer than you knew them. Someone you often think about and frequently miss. Someone sweet and beautiful, Sarah.

She’s in a nice sun dress that complements her skin. She dons a small amount of mascara, a pink lip gloss that makes her lips shiny, and when she reaches the door and faces you, she offers you her incredible smile that drives you to her without even thinking about it.

You should have. You should have hesitated opening the door and stepping outside, but you’re too happy and too ready to even hesitate. You just throw your arms around your sister again and hold her close.

“Sarah,” you whisper with a break in your voice as tears fill your eyes. “I missed you,” you add, and feel her hold you back.

“Me too,” she says sweetly, and it’s those words alone that make you feel safe again. Like the world couldn’t hurt you, and you were invincible. You felt like a little girl again back in 2003, and you enjoyed it. You made yourself at home in your sister's embrace in this peaceful afterlife.

“I…I really missed you,” you express yourself again before you pull back and face her sweet and young face, catching your reflection in her light, earthy eyes and seeing your face unchanged. You're just all dolled up in a sundress, just like her.

“I’m still older,” she reminds you, and you don’t deny her.

You laugh and assure her.

“Always,” you say, and then from one moment to another, the sound of a giggle steals your attention. When you look over, tending to the grill is a woman with her back turned to you, so you can’t take note of her face, you just see her hair and the color of her skin, but after that, it’s easy to guess that it’s your mother.

You don’t need to see her face, you know for certain because next to her is your dad.

“Daddy,” you call out with a quiver, and as said man turns to give you his attention, you march over there, but don’t embrace him like you did with Sarah. You face him with your face pampered with tears and immediately try to share your pain.

“Daddy, I’m…it…I’m sorry.” You cry while said man stays quiet, but grabs your shoulders to make you meet his gaze before he wipes away your tears.

“Come sit,” you hear Sarah say from the other end of the table. “The food is ready.”

You hold your dad's gaze, but he quickly looks away to point at an empty seat at the end of the table with a name card you can’t read. Nor do you intend to read right now.

You part from your dad and once again, without hesitation, you follow Sarah and sit at the end of the table next to her. There’s no question about it, and you don’t look back for anyone. You just take your seat and wait, seeing your dad sitting at the other end of the table across from you before the food comes. He then looks at an empty seat next to him and this time you read the name card, ‘Ellie Williams.’.

You gasp and feel a pull. At last, in the bliss, there’s a pull.

Yet you forget all about it when the woman at the grill finally turns and shows you a face you have only seen in pictures; your mother.

She turns with the food in her hands and walks over to you first to serve you.

“Mama,” you whisper happily, earning a sweet smile that makes you want to stay even more so you can keep seeing her smile. You don't want to leave. You want to stay here with her, Sarah, and your dad. It’s a choice, and you want to take it. You’re ready. It’s why you came on this trip, to reunite with them. It wasn’t Ellie who brought you on this trip; it was the need to be with your family, and you’re finally with them. Now, every muscle in your body is telling you not to look back.

Albeit as your mother walks away, you follow her with your eyes and in doing so, you catch the other empty chairs with name cards of their own.

Next to you on your left is ‘Theo Holloway.’ Next to him and in the middle is ‘Apollo Holloway’, and of course, next to him is Ellie.

Their seats are empty, and they will be empty for a while.

That thought makes you feel that pull stronger than before, but you’re still hesitant because of Sarah and your mother. You want to stay with them and him too, but when you look at him, without saying it, he’s urging you to go back.

“Please,” he finally speaks with tears welling in his eyes.

“But,” you try to argue, but stop to look at the empty seats again. “What good am I there?” You ask and look at him again. “I couldn’t save you. You’re dead because of me, and I…couldn't handle the weight of it. It was crushing me. I feel…weightless here. Happy. Please let me stay. I want to stay.”

You will. It’s your choice and you’re making it…

But there’s also Ellie…if you can’t handle the weight, how is she fairing? Dina was there when your dad died, but she can’t possibly feel the same crushing weight or the same heartache that never stops hurting. Only you and Ellie know that feeling, and if you stay…she has no one…

Damn it…

“Daddy,” you say softly, and without saying it he finally smiles at you, making that gesture and his face be the last thing you see before it’s all taken away and you’re in that lodge, seeing him die again for a fleeting second before you’re transported back to life panicked and surrounded by dark rushing water for a moment before you’re yanked out and thrown on the ground where you cough out water and try to draw in the air that will keep you alive.

“Oh, thank god!” Jesse gasps while your uncle grabs your arm to sit you up to pat your back to help you get all the water out.

Once you’ve gathered your breath and stopped with your coughing fit, your uncle throws his arms around you, feeling all the weight of the world rise off his shoulders as he sees that you’re okay now.

“Thank god,” he whispers. “I thought I lost ya there for a second.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and look anything but relieved.

That feeling will pass, but right now you’re more disappointed than grateful because you got taken away from everything you wanted. Peace, bliss, and your home.

Still, your uncle doesn’t notice that, but Jesse does. He just doesn’t say anything on the matter and instead watches you look ahead blankly whilst you relish in your Uncle's embrace.

“You might have a concussion, so let’s call today a day. There seems to be a town nearby. We can find some to hold up there,” your uncle suggests as he pulls away from the embrace to very swiftly walk around you to check on your head as if rehearsed, or fallen back to old habits from your early years traveling together.

“It’s abandoned,” you input, and let your Uncle check on you, realizing that at that moment, your horse is alive, just soaked and unharmed. You got the worst of the fall. “At least the last time I passed it was. I didn’t even encounter any infected.”

“But it doesn’t mean there isn’t any,” Jesse interjects, making your uncle agree.

“That’s true. What’s the last place you stayed at, Sunny?” Your Uncle asks as he moves away to grab the blanket off his horse to wrap it around you.

“No,” you shake your head. “We didn’t stay. We passed by, but I did see a bank. A pretty big one. It could have a vault.”

Your uncle stays quiet for a moment before he nods. “Okay. We’ll check it out. Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes so we can go. You don’t have any cuts or anything concerning, but we’ll just have you stay out of any action for a while.”

“Okay,” you agree without a fight and follow him to borrow some clothes since everything you own, even your horse, is soaked.

Once you get yourself situated, you get back on the road and don’t take long to come across the town you talked about, finding it empty of any people and infected. Or at least, the infected aren’t roaming the streets. If people were here, it’d be obvious, instead, it’s a ghost town, and that raises the hairs on the back of your neck rather than making you feel relaxed.

It's a good thing you stick to the bank and don’t take time to explore a thing, who knows what monsters lurk in the shadows.

“The horses look like they fit through the rubble,” your uncle Tommy lets you and Jesse know before he walks out to grab his horse's reins and leads her inside.

You don’t doubt your Uncle, so you follow behind him with your horse, and then Jesse trails after you.

When you’re inside and making your way further inside the bank, you can’t help but be taken aback just a little by the state of the entrance of the bank. It’s one of the few things you like about this new world; man-made things slowly being taken over by Mother Earth. It can be a breathtaking sight, and the entrance of the bank is one of those sights.

The entrance is collapsed in it on itself, letting in only sparse beams of light inside through broken windows and cracks on the cement, leaving it pretty dim, but it’s the right amount of light to let you see how moss and greenery have slowly claimed the destruction, and the way the puddled rain water glimmers on the ground.

“It’d suck to make it this far in our trip and get killed by debris,” Jesse comments as he follows you, and you follow your Uncle through the maze that debris made.

“Don’t worry.” Your Uncle chuckles. “It’s probably been like this for years. It ain't collapsin’ today…maybe.”

You muster a smile, and Jesse feigns a laugh at your Uncle’s very reassuring comment.

“I see a way inside just over there,” your Uncle points out, but you don’t catch what he does right away. You have to walk in just a little further to see the gap he pointed out, and once you do, you and Jesse go completely serious again.

However, before you can walk through the gap to see what the inside holds, your uncle brings you all to a stop to listen first.

You don’t hear anything right away, so your Uncle grabs a pebble and throws it inside, causing two growls to respond, and letting you see a picture of what you could find inside. Albeit it’s blurry since you can’t be sure if it’s just two infected until you’re inside.

“Okay, Jesse, you’ll go in with me and help me take out the infected. Sunny,” he whispers directly at you before you can argue. “You stay here until I come back to give you all the clear, okay?” He presses, and you part your lips to argue, but he cuts in right away.

“I wasn’t askin’ for your opinion. I just wanted to know if you caught all that.”

You huff and challenge his gaze for a second before you nod stiffly.

“Good. Now keep your eyes and ears open,” he reminds you before he turns away and leads the way again. You don’t cross that threshold, but you walk to the edge and peek out, catching a glimpse of Jesse and your Uncle before you hear the nerve-wracking sound of clickers, giving the answer as to what kind of infected the men will be facing, and making you think about disobeying your Uncle.

You believe that both men will be able to handle the clickers, but it doesn't take away from the fact that you’ll be a big advantage.

Yet, you don’t jump down to the ground floor to join them. You stay put and watch them creep away and get out of sight to try and catch the clickers off guard to make as little fuss as possible.

You try to strain your ear, but you can hear the clicking sound of clickers, which is a good thing. It means their plan to sneak up on them is working.

However, it’s because it’s quiet and you’re trying to be even quieter that you hear the sound of rubble falling in the water. At first, you think nothing of it. It must be natural because of the state of this place, but you hear it again, and followed by that is the sound of bare flesh hitting the cement.

It can’t be your horses because you left them near the entrance, plus their hoofs wouldn’t sound like that. It’s…some kind of infected, and basing it off how quiet it is, you’re assuming it’s a Stalker.

You can only be sure if you look, so you slowly reach for your revolver before you very slowly start to churn your head.

Just as you catch a glimpse of its ugly face and prove that it’s in fact a Stalker, suddenly the monster lunges at you, causing you to scream, and since you’re on the ledge, you lose balance and fall inside the bank with your back slamming on the ground and the infected landing on top of you.

The noise of the altercation alerts the clickers, making Jesse and your Uncle have to resort to charging at them instead. All while you try with all your might to hold the Stalker back and keep it from biting you, and honestly, finding a way to get it off you is quite easy. You can do it, but you choose to struggle. You see the potential in letting it take a nip of your flesh and choose to struggle.

And oh, the thought of having no choice but to accept death's comforting embrace is tempting because it means that you would be able to be there again. The peaceful afterlife you left. There would be no choice around it, you would be there again with Sarah, your mom, and most importantly, your dad.

You’d get to apologize for not trying harder this time. You’d remind him that you love him and that no place could ever be home if he wasn’t with you. Most importantly, you’d be able to feel like you aren’t getting choked and crushed by the incredible weight pressing down on you.

You’d be weightless and pain-free…

Yet just as you start to picture that perfect afterlife, the image of Ellie’s empty chair flashes in your mind, and your mind is bombarded with the thought of her.

Guilt and the reminder of why you chose to live in the first place seeps right back inside, and you gain the will and the might to shove the Stalker off of you.

Before it can come charging at you or go hide, you drag yourself to your ass and hit the trigger of your gun not just once, but three times until you make sure it won’t even twitch.

After that, once the Stalker is dead, you look for your Uncle and Jesse, catching your Uncle hitting his armored Clicker with the end of his rifle over and over again. It’s already dead, but he keeps hitting it with so much force that its head gets crushed into smithereens.

Jesse, on the other hand, seemed to have shot his clicker and left it alone once it was lifeless, so you catch him walking over to you now.

“Is it clear?” You ask as he walks over.

“The commotion would have made any others come out so, it seems like it, yeah,” he assures you, and the moment he reaches you, he offers you his hand like a nice gentleman, so you accept his help and get up on your feet with some struggle.

There’s no sharp pain. Just aches from all the falling today.

Nevertheless, your uncle seems to snap out of whatever spell had him obliterating that Clicker, the moment he catches a glimpse of you standing on your given height.

At first, he calls out your name as his contorted face comes undone and expresses pure concern. After that, he rushes over to you. “Are you okay?” He asks as he studies you. “You weren’t bit were you?”

You meet his dark, worried gaze and feel more guilt hitting you for wanting to leave your Uncle behind when all he does is worry about you.

“No,” you assure him softly, and without thinking, you step forward to wrap him in an embrace that catches him off guard. “I’m okay. Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes get glossy.

“Good,” your Uncle scoffs with confusion mixing with his relief. “I’m glad. Now, why don’t we find the vault to rest? You need it.”

“We all do,” you add and pull back to face both men.

“Come on then,” your uncle says without wasting another minute before leading the way through the now empty bank.

“I wonder why that clicker had armor on,” you fill the silence as you walk past the armored clicker. “Is that how armed the security was at banks?”

“No,” your Uncle answers your curiosity. “There were securities sometimes, but never armed like that. Not unless someone was trying to rob the bank.”

You hum and let a short silence fall as you reach the deposit box area, finding at that moment, an old corpse by an empty duffle bag.

That explains the armored Clicker and the other clicker Jesse took down.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Your Uncle muses as all three of you walk into the room.

“It didn’t seem like it was his lucky day,” Jesse comments as you look at the scene on the floor.

“A lot of people started breaking into banks when the outbreak happened,” your Uncle shares as he walks to the duffle to look through it. “With the whole world erupting into chaos, everyone thought it would be easy to get rich or get stuff otherwise unattainable. I guess nobody thought it would be the end of the world until it was.”

You walk away to look around at all the deposit boxes still locked and hiding riches that will always be hidden away.

“Why would people keep stuff here?” Jesse asks as he also departs from your Uncle to also take a look around.

“Well, this place was protected, so instead of leaving it all vulnerable at home, some people trusted the bank to keep their money or valuables safe.”

“I saw this movie with Apollo once where the bank workers would replace the jewelry with fake jewelry to be able to cash it,” you mention and sigh as you start to miss your husband and your baby.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse chimes in as he snaps his fingers. “I’ve seen that movie before. It was really good.”

You hum and start to drag your feet. “I miss Apollo and Teddy. I wish phones worked,” you grumble and turn as you see nothing worthwhile—“that’s something I miss.”

Your Uncle gets up with a paper in hand and chuckles at you. “You were four before, who would you call?” He teases.

You grab your back straps and start to walk back towards him. “Well, you,” you remind him, making him scoff in amusement. “And I would call…my…dad,” you trail off into a whisper. “That’s all, but hey,” you say louder with a faint smile. “I have people I can call now. That’s why I miss them.”

“We’ll be back home soon,” your Uncle tries to assure you. “Now, thank these stupid bank robbers for leaving the code to the vault,” your uncle shows off. “We’ll be able to stay inside for the night and not have a lookout.”

Jesse claps quietly, and you look over at the corpse. “Thank you,” you direct at if before you follow your uncle to the giant metal door.

You try to help after he unlocks it, but he pushes you away and makes Jesse help open the door.

“And welcome,” your uncle tries to make light of the night. “Take a breath and take the night off from all the worry. We’ll be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

“Is that so?” Jesse doubts the area, and he has every right to, but your uncle is right.

“Yeah, it is,” you assure him as you walk in first, seeing a skeleton inside. Only this one dons armor, and holds onto a shotgun they seemed to have used to end their misery.

“We would stay in places like this often,” you continue as you grab the armored skeleton and drag it out past the big door so it’s not an eyesore in the room.

“If someone does try to come in, we’ll hear them struggle to open the door,” your Uncle adds. “That will give us time to react. That’s why Joel chose to stay in places like these in the beginning. Sunny was a little girl, so we took extra precautions.”

You don’t comment on the memory or try to recall those old days. You drop the skeleton and walk back inside to wander around, seeing that the deposit boxes are open in this room, so you snoop through them as Jesse and your Uncle gather abandoned money to use for a fire to have light and make the room warm.

“What would the old you from the old world think about you doing this?” Jesse asks your Uncle. “I mean you were all dependent on this, weren’t you?”

“Well, first, I would assume I was insane or crazy rich,” your uncle says. “And second, yes, this was once our livelihood. We didn’t have a lot of it, but…we were happy.”

“I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve looked like if I got to live in the old world,” Jesse keeps filling the silence, making you peer over with an amused smile. “Maybe I would’ve been in construction like you.”

Your uncle scoffs. “Ah, nah. Think bigger. I was lame.”

“You said you were happy,” Jesse counters, making you smirk. “Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Your uncle goes quiet for a moment, and a match strikes before he offers him a response. “I never appreciated it until after. Until it was all gone. I imagine that was everyone’s life story.”

You turn away from the pair and hear a fire start as you continue to snoop through, noticing a silver ring in one of the open boxes and immediately taking it as you think about Apollo.

“Look at this,” you call for everyone's attention and turn to show the ring off. “You think Apollo will like it?” You ask as you bring the ringer closer, as you see words engraved on it. “His wedding band is good, but I always wanted something better for him. This looks better. Besides, he deserves it for being so understanding of my decision.”

“I think it’ll be nice, Sunny, take it,” your uncle backs up your choice before he also sounds thoughtful. “I should get something for Maria and Benji too.”

You smile at him and assure him. “I’ll keep my eye out for you,” you let him know, and finally recognize that the words engraved on the ring are Latin, but you have no idea what it means.

‘Sic Parvis Magna’

Apollo's dad can probably figure it out. He was a university teacher who taught about Ancient Greece and other ancient stuff.

“Thank you,” your uncle says back. “Now, let's close that door and gather for dinner. We should take advantage of the extra security to get as much sleep as we can before we have to leave. Plus, you,” he points at you. “You need to rest. You’ve been through it today. You need it.”

You hum in agreement and go on to help with what you can, or with what they let you help with. Which is not a lot, they let you take tonight easy because of your concussion and the tumble that left your body aching.

It does feel quite odd letting yourselves be so relaxed though, after weeks on the road having to be on guard and look over your shoulder. So much so that at first you’re all so tense, but after a while, once you’re all reassured that no one is coming in and no infected is lurking outside, you all exhale and let yourselves loose. You share stories, and mostly answer Jesse’s curiosities about the old world because he likes to hear about your Uncle’s past, and no matter how many times you’ve heard it, you never tire of the stories he tells.

There was even a moment when you were all gathered around the fire that you laughed. You genuinely laughed a hearty laugh.

The action felt so foreign yet so…good, like everything that torments you would be temporary and you’d be alright.

Maybe you should’ve hung onto that feeling to try and mend your broken soul, but you remembered why you’re so far from home and the events that caused it, and that small taste of healing vanishes, leaving your world broken again.

Only as you come off this high, you hurt so much worse. As if it happened for the first time. That’s why you can’t sleep, or you choose not to, because you know the nightmares that await you, and Apollo is not here to keep you grounded or make you feel safe.

Staying awake won’t help you feel better about your injuries, but you’d rather spend a sleepless night than have to go through the memories that torment you at night. Besides, it seems like you’re not the only one awake.

In the darkness that swallows the room, you see Jesse getting out of his sleeping bag, so after a while of giving him time to himself, you join him in a corner filled with more stacks of money.

“It’s crazy to me that this paper controlled the world,” he whispers thoughtfully.

“I had a piggy bank once,” you share as you’re on the topic of money again. “I kept my allowance in it. Of course, I wouldn’t get the big bucks like my sister, but I would get dollar bills from my dad, my uncle, or the neighbors.”

Jesse chuckles, and you smile softly.

“Oh yeah, I was really well-liked, but that’s beside the point,” you brush it off and continue with your story. “I was saving up for this beautiful princess tea set. That was all I was saving up for, so when the time came to go buy it, I collected all my money, went to the store, grabbed my princess tea set, and put my money on the counter…guess how much I had.”

Jesse shakes his head before he gives you a response. “More than enough?”

You scoff. “Five dollars. The princess tea set was fifteen.”

“So all that saving up…what was it for?”

You sigh. “Ice cream and candy. I had wasted my money on ice cream and candy. Every time I went to the store or the ice cream truck passed, I used my money. That’s where it all went,” you share with disappointment. “I was devastated.”

“Let me guess,” Jesse adds. “Your dad put in the rest?”

You smile softly right away and nod. “Yeah, he did, and then when we got home, I dressed up my dad and my sister, and we had tea.” You smile wider at the faint memory, but as the darkness once again consumes you, you grow sorrowful.

A silence proceeds to blanket you and Jesse for a moment, letting you both take a seat on the uncomfortable stack of money and focus on nothing and everything the room holds.

“Can I ask you something?” Jesse asks, breaking the silence and drifting your gaze to him.

“Shoot,” you encourage him, making him sigh and welcome a short silence before he lifts his head and turns it to face you.

At first, you can’t make him out in the darkness, but as he lets the silence build, you slowly make out his face, catching a boy-like curiosity. Not one that makes his eyes twinkle, but a curiosity that adds a weight to the conversation, as you know he’s about to be vulnerable.

“How can you put on such a brave face in the face of danger?” He finally asks, making your eyebrows twitch together before you question something.

“You aren’t a coward. I actually admire your bravery and your courage. You're hard to scare, so what do you mean?”

Jesse sighs deeply and averts his gaze to explain himself. “Today, when you fell in the river, you looked anything but scared. And earlier, with that Infected, your face never once showed a glimpse of fear. Are you just used to this world? Or what’s your secret? I’m genuinely curious.”

You falter, and that secret you’ve been keeping from them threatens to come out. “I am scared,” you reveal. “All the time, I just…” You trail off and swallow thickly, feeling your secret press harder to come out as it's just you and him. Your uncle is sleeping, it's just you and Jesse.

Yet it’s the thought that Jesse will know that makes you fight to keep in what you feel.

“I won’t share your secret,” he presses, making your eyes flicker back to him and feel your breath hitch, but that need to keep everything in keeps holding on.

“…I just can’t let it get the best of me,” you continue with what you were saying. “Or it will consume me…” You trail off again and drop your head, hiding that desperate desire to speak your mind.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse cuts in, changing the subject bluntly. “When I went to you about going after Ellie, I pushed. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrug softly. “I needed it. I couldn’t afford letting her get days ahead or even reach Seattle before I made up my mind,” you assure him before you face him and probe. “Why did you come though? Is it to help Dina?”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, it’s not just about her,” he shares. “It’s about Ellie, too. I would have gone with them if they had asked. Begrudgingly, but I would have. My friends' problems are my problems.”

You smile in admiration right away as you nod slowly in comprehension. “Nice,” you praise him and avert your gaze again.

As Jesse doesn’t get what he was initially searching for, he boldly crosses that threshold you had kept between you, your uncle, and him.

“What was that hesitation with the infected about?”

You act surprised, but he’s not as patient anymore. He’s persistent and worried.

“I promised my friend Apollo I would look after you, I intend to keep my promise.”

You scoff softly and shake your head, hesitating just a moment longer but finally finding a foothold to slowly tear that wall down. “That day my dad died,” you begin to share slowly. “They caught me off guard, and no matter how hard I tried, how reckless I was, I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save him, and now I see it every day as if it happened yesterday. It torments me while I’m awake and in my sleep, and I can’t…it’s,” your voice quivers. “It’s crushing me. That’s why I came…to find an end to my torment because it hurts. It hurts so much.” You cry but immediately cover your mouth to not wake up your uncle.

“It’s selfish, I know,” you say what you assume Jesse is thinking. “But that’s my secret. A desire to die.” You exhale deeply and slide your hands off your face before you keep going as you can’t make yourself stop and need to make it sound better.

“And I found it. My escape. When I fell into that river, I had a choice. I was…home in Texas, and I felt so weightless. Not only that, but I was with…her…my sister, my mom, and…my dad. I was home, and it felt…so good. Every bone and muscle in my body told me to stay,” you whisper. “I felt that need so deeply inside me that for a moment…it was no longer a choice, but then…there was an empty chair with a name card on it. Ellie’s,” you pause and wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“I tried to fight myself, but then I thought of how alone she’ll be, and I know…I know she has you, Dina, and everyone else, but there’s this connection only she and I share. A connection only she and I know because no one loved him like we did and…I thought about how alone she would be if I did slip away, and…that thought brought me back. She did,” you finish saying and keep wiping tears off your face.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse tries to offer some consolation. “And I think you made the right choice. As costly as it seemed.”

You sniffle. “I’m horrible,” you can’t help but spill. “I didn’t even think about my family. I was so ready. It hurt so much to come back because I was with him, but then I wasn’t. I…I,” you can’t finish saying, and drop your head to cry as quietly as possible.

“Just,” you add as you wipe your face and face him again. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Especially not her. I’ll be good now,” you reassure him. “I’m trying. I am. For her.”

“I won’t,” Jesse whispers as he watches how much you struggle to stop from sobbing.

He had watched you from his seat the entire time because he didn’t know how to help, but now as he sees you crying but also trying to stop, he cups your shoulder before he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in against him so you can find some comfort in his embrace.

And you do. In your most vulnerable moment, you find comfort in your friend.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. SEATTLE*

“The Evergreen State, home of the Dodgers,” you break the silence as you come across a trail sign that gives two different directions; one that points to Arboretum and the Seattle Trail. You all follow the Seattle Trail, of course.

“No,” your uncle snorts. “Not even close. Mariners.”

“Oh.”

“Los Ángeles was home to the Dodgers.”

You rest your chin on your horse's head and become reminiscent. “Apollo watches old Re-runs of baseball games with his dad and brother. I can never get into them though. It’s the same games over and over again.”

“They could say the same thing about your movies,” your Uncle quips, making you loll your head to the side to look at him with a pointed glare.

“Yeah. I’ll let you have that old man,” you mutter. “Touché.”

You then continue to sigh and glance up at the tall green trees that almost touch the sky. Wyoming doesn’t have trees this tall, you wish there were because they’re so fascinating, but you’re also so terrifying in a sense. They’re like giants.

“I’ll give it to Washington. Their forests are beautiful,” you muse. “They’re so…green…” You trail off and glance at your two trusted companions, catching Jesse not even giving you the time of day, while your uncle rolls his eyes, making you smile faintly before you sit up. At that moment, catching the whiff of something completely foul.

The further you walk, the stronger that smell gets. It even burns your nose, but the smell is not strange. You all know it well and don’t take long to come across the violent scene in the middle of the dirt path.

You are only a few miles in, and you’re already coming across corpses of what were once living humans. Not infected. And it’s not just a couple; just past the thickness of some greenery is a group of them. All slaughtered and all seeming to be donning similar green coats that almost make them go unnoticed if their pale, lifeless face didn’t stand out against the dark dirt.

“Do these look like W.L.F? Could it have been them?” Jesse asks as he studies the violent scene to make sure that neither of the women you knew was amongst them.

“No,” you ease his worry. “These don’t look like W.L.F. They were ordinary clothes and,” you pause and look back at the body of the man you passed with a white painted symbol that was nothing like a wolf. This symbol is like…an eye? Or something astrological?

“…they didn’t have that symbol or use the same coat,” you let Jesse and your Uncle know. “But…these are too many to have been taken down by Dina and Ellie alone. Maybe it was W.L.F. That girl,” you avoid saying her name. “Did hint at Seattle being dangerous. Or something…so maybe this is a glimpse of it.”

Your Uncle hums before you hear him tighten his hands against his reign.

“Whatever it may be,” your uncle comments with his eyes narrowed ahead. “Let’s try not to get caught in the middle of it and hope Dina and Ellie are trying to do the same. Come on, it's better not to stop. Someone could be close.”

You steal one glance at the violent scene, and from what you can tell, they were all taken down by gunshots, and a lot of them died with melee weapons. No firearms.

Maybe they got taken after they died?

Whatever the case, you push away your curiosities and pay even closer attention to the tall trees, just in case there’s people hiding up there like when you were in Kansas.

Luckily, besides critters and birds, there’s nothing else that inhabits the trees, and after crossing a few miles, you find the freeway and thankfully leave the thick of the woods.

You are far more exposed now because you don’t have the cover of the trees, which is the downside, but at least you don’t have to be scared that there's people lurking up there.

Now all you have to worry about is if there’s people lurking around you, or if you’ve been accidentally spotted. So far, everything along the freeway is truly abandoned. There’s no sign of life or Infected, just Mother Earth consuming the manmade cars that were left on the freeway, and the manmade highway itself.

Eventually, you end up at the end of a bridge that either deteriorated or was blown up like the other major cities. Either way, you reach the high point and get the perfect view of the city, wondering instead of admiring what dangers such a beautiful city holds.

Ellie is somewhere inside there. In danger, hiding, close to Abby, or…hurt. You can’t think of the other alternative. It’s too grim and threatens to shove you back into that coma-like state.

“Listen,” your uncle interjects. “When we enter the city. We’ll take our separate ways. Sunny, you and Jesse stick together, and I’ll go off alone,” your uncle brings up without facing you because he knows he’ll see your disbelief and disagreement.

“No,” he blurts before you can cut in. “You cannot come with me,” he makes you shut up. “We’ll cover more ground this way, and I'd prefer it if Jesse didn’t go off alone. So yes, you have to stay with him.”

You huff and pout as you stare off at the nearby city.

“We’ll meet up again in the morning,” he continues and points to a spot on a map you found in an abandoned gas station just before you got into the city.

“What if you end up in danger? How are we supposed to find you then?” You argue either way and snap your head to pierce your glare into him. “The city is fucking huge. It’s better if we stick together! That girl said this place was dangerous!”

“And if we stick together, we won’t even cover a quarter of the city,” your uncle argues and finally faces you. “If we separate, we cover more ground, so I’m not arguin’ with you about it.”

You scowl and look away to grumble your defeated response. “Fine.”

“Take care of each other, and if you find the girls, throw them on your horses or tie them. Whatever it is, just bring them back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jesse confirms that he understands what you need to do, making your uncle move his horse closer to you to pick on you now.

“We'll meet in the mornin’. I swear.”

You slowly look back at him as you hear his attempt to assure you and keep your frown plastered as you retort. “If not, I will come after ya. I’m not goin’ home without you. Together, remember?” You bring up since it seems appropriate now that you’re traveling on the road like the old days.

“How can I forget?” he says lightheartedly and flashes you a small smile. “Now let’s go. Let’s see each other off.”

Knowing he’s right, but not admitting it, you continue toward the city. Yet the only difference is when you come off the highway, you break apart like the old faded lanes that lead to different streets of what was once a buzzling city.

You and Jesse try to keep quiet as you roam the quiet streets, not because you still don’t have the energy to make conversation. After your heart-to-heart with Jesse, that wall you kept up has slowly come down, and you let your voice be heard more. You’re not just a quiet listener anymore; you join their conversations and tell them stories about everything and anything that comes to mind. Even of the past. Or at least the parts that didn’t stab your heart to recollect. So that’s not why you keep quiet.

You don’t want to draw unwanted attention. You’re already walking through the city on horses, so you don’t want to put yourselves at even more risk by talking.

“We should find somewhere to hide our horses,” you bring up. “We’re gonna stick out regardless, but this way it’ll be somewhat easier to blend in.”

“Yeah,” Jesse sighs as he keeps scanning the area without daring to miss an inch. “That’s smart. One of these buildings shall do it. It’ll help if we keep them close to our way out of the city, just in case we have to make some hasty escape.”

You nod and scan the area until a music store catches your eye.

“There!” You point out. “The windows are covered. Let’s keep ‘em there.”

You nudge your horse to walk faster to reach the store quicker as you feel an inkling of excitement seep through.

Nevertheless, and as expected, the doors are closed.

“I’ll find a way in,” Jesse volunteers. “Stay here.”

Without another choice, you agree and watch him disappear into an alley before you start to look over your shoulders, making sure that you don’t catch anything suspicious, and finding yourself find this silence more terrifying than any monster.

Alas, nothing comes out from any corner or any building. The ghost is clear, and it seems that Jesse comes across the same luck because he opens the doors rather quickly.

“Look at you,” you muse as you hop off your horse to lead yours and Jesse’s inside. “Good job.”

“Team Jackson!” He exclaims and puts his hand up to offer you a high five as you reach the doors.

“Yeah!” You giggle and let the reins go to give him a high five. “Team Jackson!”

“The store is clear and by the looks of it, it has grass growing in so they can eat that while we’re gone,” he says after you return to the horses and continue to lead them inside.

Once he closes the doors behind you and barricades the store again, you let the reins go and let yourself be in complete awe by the store.

“What richness,” you muse as you take in all the different kinds of music that's still left behind. “If only I had infinite space in my backpack. I’d take it all home, oh, and look!” You point out and run over to the folk section to snatch a Joan Baez album off the shelf. “My queen of Folk music, Joan Baez. My uncle said my mama loved her.” You smile at the album but also curse the fact that you can’t play it right now.

“If only we had room. All this music wouldn’t collect dust at Jackson,” Jesse says, thinking more selflessly, whereas all you think about is your collection. “I’m sure…people would love to hear some of that be played at a fall fair?” He asks as he tries to discreetly press you to rethink about your abandoned dream of having a fair at Jackson.

Lately, him and your uncle have been bringing up the idea, but that excitement and dream died with…your dad. You just let both men try to insist because you don’t want to be rude and turn them down. They can still have a fair, you just won’t be a part of it.

“Hm, maybe,” you say without that initial enthusiasm, and put the album down to start walking down the site with your fingers raising the dust off the music people forgot about.

“Let’s head out before we lose more time here,” you bring an end to all the excitement and return a sorrow that was such a constant companion in your group.

Once you collect the things you need and go back outside, the tension lingers until you speak up “Joan Baez has a song called ‘Jesse’. Fun fact.”

Said man glances over at you and probes. “Really?”

You glance at him, too, and nod. “Yep. When we get back home, listen to it. Maybe it’s not your thing, but it’s still cool. You can pretend she’s singing about you, considering your girl might have been stolen.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t get hurt or bothered by your comment.

“Maybe you are right,” he mutters. “After this. Maybe I’ll take your advice about officially cutting things off.”

You pat his shoulder. “Yeah, I would like that for you. You’re young, take advantage of that and explore your options. Or don’t. Up to you. Maybe you’ll meet someone here. Won’t that be romantic?” You tease, making him crack a smile.

“I guess I’ll see. Maybe this trip has changed Dina. Maybe we can work things out,” he says, and as to not take sides, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah. Maybe. We’ll have to find her to know. Hopefully they’re okay,” you trail off into a whisper.

“I’m sure they will be,” he tries to assure him and you. “They’re smart and work well together.”

You hum in agreement, and as you scan the area as you turn the corner, you think about Ellie and hope with every fiber of your body that she’s okay. You can’t…imagine her not being okay. The thought, it…utterly terrifies you and threatens to send you down that dark cycle again…

That’s why you hang onto Jesse’s attempt at reassuring you as you wander the streets of Seattle, trying to go undetected by the threats that make this city so dangerous.

However, just as you note how calm and quiet it’s all been, Abby’s warning starts to come into fruition as out of hiding, canisters hit the ground.

Jesse and you catch where the canisters land and notice that they’re smoke screens, but no matter how fast you react, you can’t avoid them. They go off, and your ears begin to ring, while your eyes begin to sting because of the thick clouds of smoke, and your lungs get polluted by the same poison, leaving you dazed and desperate to find Jesse.

He was next to you, he can’t be far.

“Jesse?!” You call out between coughs and pull out your gun as you begin to walk in the direction he was just in before the smoke broke you apart.

“Jesse?!”

Seconds later, your name is shouted back, and the smoke begins to clear from the air and your body by the second, so you’re less dazed, but you still can’t see him. Or anything else for that matter. You can only hear different footsteps all around you.

“Jesse!”

“Here,” a stranger speaks up for the man you’re looking for and comes out of the smoke with a mask and gun.

In response, you point yours at your head, but then, from behind you, before you can shoot, something cold and hard hits the back of your head, leading to a void of darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- some game scenes are you excited??

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @maplecohen @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @hardbeingcasual @rana030 @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @sunsumonner @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl @g4ns3y @izzzzy-the-amazing @aphr0d1teh @lovelyygirl8 @ivy-taylorsversion @mmkkzz @avitute @fuckmebobboys @kitdjarin1 @barnes70stark

[sea-lanterns]

hi js wanted to post some crack (not the drugs but shitposting) that came to me while i was in the shower lmao

imagine we're masturbating and fantasizing abt the genshin women of our choice and lo and behold they were standing outside our door bcs they cant help but listen to our moans and cries of their names and they barge in to help us with our needs and say:

"it's not a cliteri,

it's a cliterus"

and we both burst out laughing cuz thats the dumbest shit that we've ever heard of but it doesnt ruin the mood cuz they then plunged their fingers into our pus-

HELPPPP. Ykw, this sounds like something Amber, Yoimiya, Navia, Beidou, Furina, Hu Tao, Mualani, Mavuika and Columbina would say. All the sillier girls would make a pun so stupid like that during sex, I love them and my pants are down immediately—

Sex is so silly and I know for a fact these girls will act playful instead of trying so hard to act hot and seductive. The type of girls to swing their straps like a helicopter before pushing it in agjajsjhskldkk. You’re so silly babe let’s make out

[hsrwife]

here's my one piece self insert with some minor changes from before! info is pretty much the same - which ik i havent shared here before but ive had them since FOREVER so!!! all the details can be found under the cut!

BASICS

Name: Julian Jay Species: Skypedian (hides it pre-timeskip) -- Epithet: "Smiling Stowaway" -- Bounty: 56,000,000 (first), 700,000,000 (current) Age: 18 (pre-timeskip), 20 (post timeskip) Pronouns: it/any Gender: Unlabeled Orientation: Queer (technically abro but doesn't care to label it) Height: 5ft 6in

PERSONALITY

PRE-TIMESKIP Julian is a snarky and sarcastic individual. Though not outwardly hostile, it's not considered the nicest person either. It jokes about everything, it doesn't take anything seriously, and sometimes it's attitude can get on the nerves of other people. Deep down it really care about those it loves, though, it just has trouble showing it. But with it's enemies? It's vindictive, hateful and angry - ready to fight whenever the opportunity arises.

POST TIMESKIP Julian had time to grow from it's previous self. The two years away from it's only friends had shown it just how much of a huge jerk it was being, and slowly but surely, it began to see the kindness around them in the world too. Such a perspective change practically changed it as a whole. Now optimistic and cheerful, it is much more open about it's care for others and have an open heart for other's situations as well.

COMBAT

weapon of choice: fists strengths: hard hitter & very good defense w/ devil fruit weaknesses: slow and can't dodge very well. devil fruit - rock rock fruit (iwa iwa no mi) the rock rock fruit allows the user to harderntheir skin, creating rock-like layers that act as both an extra layer of damage and a protective shield. -- pros: the rock-like layers are hard to penetrate with blades or bullets, making the user a very good tank. -- cons: the rock-like layers add weight, making the user incredibly slow to move. it also makes them susceptible to heat exhaustion if they don't crack the shell off for too long. the layers when removed can leave the skin tender and red, and is often painful to the touch.

BACKSTORY

Julian grew up on the streets on an island where a clear hierarchy was established between the authorities, the rich, and the poor. It doesn't remember how it got there or why it was there, all it remembered was the cold winter nights alone, bundled in whatever it could find. That was until a homeless man who it affectionately called 'Pa' took it under his wing.

Pa taught it everything it had to know about surviving in a cold, cruel space. He basically raised it from a child to a teen - that was until the authorities tracked him down and arrested him. They claimed he stole an ancient artifact from them. A prize locket that was fabled to be a clue to the One Piece. Julian was furious, knowing that it's adoptive father was innocent. So it began their search.

Eventually, after many break-ins and robberies, it finally found the culprit. A fellow marine who'd been there at the arresting of Pa. Presenting the evidence to the authorities, they wished to take it back - but it only would give it back if Pa was released.

That's when the marines revealed that Pa had died in prison. Sick, frail, hungry. They laughed in their face about how it probably was better for him than being on the streets as a poor man. Infuriated beyond belief, Julian smashed the locket into the ground and stomped on it, shattering it completely. Now not only a pathetic peasant, but a criminal in the eyes of the law, it ran away and hid in an idle ship - it hid until it set sail, and since then, it jumped from ship to ship, hiding in their stock and stealing their supplies for itself until eventually meeting their forever home: the Going Merry.

TRIVIA

it joins the strawhats after robin and before franky

it perceives objects with names, personalities, etc, but still recognizes that they're objects with no sentience -- they perceive zoro's swords with different personalities and likes one of them, is neutral with one, and hates another

pre timeskip julian is a smoker and often steals sanji's cigarettes

it ate the rock rock fruit on a ship it was hiding on, not realizing it was a devil fruit. it's fate was sealed that day /j

paired romantically with luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin, franky, jinbe, yamato (yes, all at the same time) paired familially with chopper (little brother), pa (father)

[highpriestess13]

Message of the Day!

There’s something you desire here but stress is surrounding you receiving it. Something could be pricey which may be causing internal stress for you but spirit is calling for you to save or you may be feeling like you have to dip into your savings in order to purchase this item. This may be a car for some of you or this may be wanting to buy extravagant shit for yourself. I’m hearing “plan and save”. Financial maturity is what I’m getting strongly. 2:22 on the clock… that’s confirmation. Look for different ways to pay for things like coupons or sales.. or you may never know, the very thing you may want just might go on sale! It’s like you’re supported heavily. What you may think may not go your way, it actually will. That 8 & 9 of swords energy is coming to mind. Stop doubting & stressing before the solution unfolds… have more trust & faith. If you really want it, spirit will do their due diligence to make sure you have it. It’s giving ✨highly favored✨. Now act like you are! lol

I see a message, gift, offer, guidance, or someone coming in but there’s a blockage or you’re going to be real skeptical about it. Spirit is wanting for you to be free/ open. It’s giving blessing in disguise. I’m hearing “you got me working day and night” by Michael Jackson. So this is definitely someone else.. but it may also be you, only time will tell. But someone is definitely hard at work… but in disguise. It’s like spirit working things in your favor behind the scenes. You don’t know a damn thing and they’re wanting to keep like that too. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise 😏. Illusions, confusions, all that mysterious vibe yep that’s ending. I’m also hearing something about “true intentions”. Some of you could be receiving intuitive nudges to discern a situation or someone… maybe to even leave them behind. Once you do, this transformation will bring meaningful elevation, surprises, good luck, success, triumph, recognition… all that good shit lol. Paths are being cleared for you, that’s why everything has been going so smoothly recently lol.

It’s time to get back into balance whether this is financial or physical, or both. You’re carrying too much which is causing you to fumble or become unstable in some way. I see someone loosing their balance… like literally. Pour into the earth, let it be transmuted for you. Libation could be significant too. Stars are either aligned or coming close to alignment which is why you’ve been feeling very confident in yourself.. and don’t get me started with the staring and head turning 👀. Most of you ain’t looking for love and that’s alright. I feel like someone feels, if they’re not stable in their own personal life… why try to keep up with a relationship? I hope that made sense. Like someone loves perfectionism. If things ain’t right in the inside, then it’s not going to look right on the outside. You or someone could be one of those “I gotta have my ducks in a row before anything”. And trust, you will just continue to have faith. Some of you are so bossed up ( or about to be) that you’re not going to want a relationship. Work on that heart chakra too 👀. You’re no longer pouring into anything nor anyone that’s unfaithful and non- reciprocal. You’re choosing you and that’s fine… you’re not making choices for other people anymore, you’re making choices for you!

“I can see clearly now the rain is gone” it sure tf is!! But you don’t see it yet, that’s just spirit letting you know ahead of time that, that uncertainty will be undone. Those blockages will be undone. Idk why but the “Our Father” prayer is coming to mind. You’re NOT going to see what happens next or what’s coming towards you. That is being blocked from your sight to avoid any sabotage or trying to move ahead of spirit & divine timing. If you’re at a crossroads, a path you didn’t see before will become visible to you soon but as of right now… buckle tf up! “Smooth sailing”. You’re rising above challenges and obstacles with a clear mindset & clearer vision. You’ve humbled yourself in so many ways that even your past self wouldn’t believe. So yes, you are making progress, you are growing & healing. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Some of you may even meet someone new too, I’ll give it between cancer and Leo season or that might their sign… or yours 🤷‍♀️. It’s giving long term, marriage, happiness, celebration. “With the quickness” is what I’m hearing. Something with 5-8 days or weeks could be significant. Like the first 5 days there may be a lot of chaos/ tension but 3 or 8 days later everything starts falling into place. It’s like you gotta hit a temporary rough patch before you can enter calmer waters. But it’s all divinely timed & planned… like that’s what is supposed to happen in order for you and this person to align with one another. Quite frankly, it’s giving “by fate” or “by chance” lol. Like, if a situation didn’t happen you guys probably wouldn’t have met type shit lol.

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks