#the work is the entire fucking point kiddos

[angryonabus]

As a teacher, this is the thing I come back to again and again. I am not doing this job because I am on some god-given quest to find The Best Ever Essay; I am doing this job because I am on a (self-given) quest to turn my students into People Who Can Write A Pretty Decent Essay, or at least People Who Can Write A Better Essay Than They Could Have Written This Time Last Year.

When students use ChatGPT or similar generative garbage, they are thwarting my quest in two ways. As mentioned above, they're not doing the mental work that will allow them to practice the skills I'm trying to teach, and no practice means no improvement. Sure, the final product might look shiny and nice — although because generative AI isn't actually intelligent and can't actually think, it quite often doesn't, but that's a whole other post — but my students haven't engaged in the kind of productive struggle that OP & others have mentioned, meaning that they haven't actually learned anything.

AND ALSO: As a teacher, the point of assigning work is to see how students are engaging with the content, not just to give them a grade but so that I can see where they're need more support or more challenge. If you give me an essay that ChatGPT wrote, I don't know what you can do, which makes it impossible for me to help you in any meaningful way (beyond saying, "kid, stop using ChatGPT").

School is about learning, and learning requires that you use your brain. Stop trying to outsource the process.

Something I don't think we talk enough about in discussions surrounding AI is the loss of perseverance.

I have a friend who works in education and he told me about how he was working with a small group of HS students to develop a new school sports chant. This was a very daunting task for the group, in large part because many had learning disabilities related to reading and writing, so coming up with a catchy, hard-hitting, probably rhyming, poetry-esque piece of collaborative writing felt like something outside of their skill range. But it wasn't! I knew that, he knew that, and he worked damn hard to convince the kids of that too. Even if the end result was terrible (by someone else's standards), we knew they had it in them to complete the piece and feel super proud of their creation.

Fast-forward a few days and he reports back that yes they have a chant now... but it's 99% AI. It was made by Chat-GPT. Once the kids realized they could just ask the bot to do the hard thing for them - and do it "better" than they (supposedly) ever could - that's the only route they were willing to take. It was either use Chat-GPT or don't do it at all. And I was just so devastated to hear this because Jesus Christ, struggling is important. Of course most 14-18 year olds aren't going to see the merit of that, let alone understand why that process (attempting something new and challenging) is more valuable than the end result (a "good" chant), but as adults we all have a responsibility to coach them through that messy process. Except that's become damn near impossible with an Instantly Do The Thing app in everyone's pocket. Yes, AI is fucking awful because of plagiarism and misinformation and the environmental impact, but it's also keeping people - particularly young people - from developing perseverance. It's not just important that you learn to write your own stuff because of intellectual agency, but because writing is hard and it's crucial that you learn how to persevere through doing hard things.

Write a shitty poem. Write an essay where half the textual 'evidence' doesn't track. Write an awkward as fuck email with an equally embarrassing typo. Every time you do you're not just developing that particular skill, you're also learning that you did something badly and the world didn't end. You can get through things! You can get through challenging things! Not everything in life has to be perfect but you know what? You'll only improve at the challenging stuff if you do a whole lot of it badly first. The ability to say, "I didn't think I could do that but I did it anyway. It's not great, but I did it," is SO IMPORTANT for developing confidence across the board, not just in these specific tasks.

Idk I'm just really worried about kids having to grow up in a world where (for a variety of reasons beyond just AI) they're not given the chance to struggle through new and challenging things like we used to.

[dadsbongos]

The tuplar crew with a s/o that is good with kids

( Even can tame the bratty ones)

this is so funny to me because only one of them in my mind even wants kids anymore lol

curly

the type of man that wants to be good with kids, but they smell his desperation and just stomp all over him. so when he sees you so easily charm or soothe them, he gets kind of jelly but pretends he isn't. secretly tries picking up certain speech patterns or tricks from you as if you won't notice. if you corner him about it he'd fold immediately and ask you to show him your ways.

overall: 8/10. if you also want kids, he's planning when to start that up ASAP!

anya

i think she likes kids, but never really saw herself as a mother or felt that maternal instinct. she just thinks they're funny and likes babysitting which has also made her pretty decent with ankle biters! maybe seeing you with a temperamental niece or nephew would give her some daydream material about raising kids together. reassured you would be nurturing and loving while she was off working as a nurse.

overall: 10/10. you make one badass team, all the baby cousins and nieces and nephews are begging to play with you two at gatherings!

swansea

has already had his kids. does not care for any child that isn't his. does not feel paternal or affectionate or inspired if he sees you with children. sure, he's glad you're not some cruel monster that berates kids but that's about as far as it goes. as long as you get along with his children, that's all he really cares about. thankfully even as they're older, his kiddos love you.

overall: 5/10. if you were a bully to kids he'd cut it off, but it's not that serious to him.

daisuke

flip-flops massively about whether or not he wants children, ultimately pushing off the question entirely and chalking it up to your young ages. however! he's not immune to bouts of baby fever watching you babysit. how chunky monkey infants coo for your attention and toddlers give you flowers and shyly ask if you'll build blocks with them. even older kids musing how 'cool' you are and how they wanna be like you when they grow up. he loves it, eats it up.

overall: 7/10. not sure what he wants to do with this information, but enjoys watching the show.

jimmy

this fucker. does not give a fuck. he does not like kids very much and does not want one. if he knocks you up it's a total fucking accident and his gut reaction is probably telling you to get rid of 'it'. but if he's at the point where you two are regularly shagging and going to family parties where you being good with kids is something he actively witnesses then you two are locked in (i.e he's not going anywhere if you keep the baby, just disgruntled). deep down, though, if you two wind up expecting a baby then he is actually very fucking grateful you know what you're doing because he Does Not.

overall: 3/10. lets you do whatever, does not engage with kids even if you're supposed to be babysitting Together.

[mattsobvimyfav]

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 19 -

Thanksgiving break had finally arrived, and I couldn’t pack my bags fast enough. The thought of heading home to spend time with my dad filled me with so much excitement that I barely noticed Chris and Matt walk in the dorm.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Chris said, pointing to the pile I’d stacked near the door.

“Yeah, no shit,” Matt added, leaning against his bed. “Are you moving home permanently?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m just prepared, okay? Unlike you guys. What are you taking home, one hoodie and a pair of sweatpants?”

Chris grinned. “Pretty much, yeah.”

I couldn’t wait to spend uninterrupted time with my dad, cooking, watching football, and enjoying the comfort of home.

“Actually,” Matt said, breaking my train of thought, “since we’re all gonna be home, we should film a car video the day after Thanksgiving. Nick got home this morning.”

Chris perked up. “Yeah, it was really fun when you did the Q&A with us. Nick would kill us if we didn’t invite you.”

I smiled at the idea. “I’m in. But only if I get shotgun.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Chris said quickly, shaking his head. “The fans know that's my seat.”

“Unbelievable,” I teased, throwing a hoodie into my bag.

Chris chuckled. “Snacks are on us, though.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder, glancing at both of them. “Fine. Friday it is. Don’t let me down on the snacks.” Matt and Chris each grabbed one of my bags and their own.

The boys had grown even more in the past weeks on youtube, they are at around two hundred thousand subscribers. I haven't been in a video since the q&a.

As we all headed out of the dorm to load up our cars, Matt glanced over. “Bet you’re excited to see your dad, huh?”

“More than anything,” I said with a soft smile. 

Chris grinned. “Enjoy it while it lasts. You're free from us until Friday.”

I laughed, waving them off as I got into my car. Heading home to my dad.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home, a wave of relief washed over me. The house looked the same as it always did. I barely had the car in park before my dad stepped out onto the porch, his arms wide open.

“Honey!” he called, his voice filled with excitement.

“Dad!” I shouted back, rushing up the steps and into his embrace. His hugs always made everything else fade away, no matter how stressful life had been.

“You’re home,” he said, holding me tight for an extra second before pulling back to look at me. “How’s my girl?”

“Better now,” I said honestly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, kiddo.” He grabbed my bags from the car, insisting I didn’t have to lift a finger, and brought them inside.

Once my bags were dropped in my room, my dad clapped his hands together. “So, what do you say we go out for dinner tonight? My treat. Anywhere you want.”

I grinned. “How about… Kingsleys?”

“You read my mind,” he said with a wink.

“Good, lets go,” I said, already grabbing my coat.

The waitress recognized us immediately and greeted us like old friends. We slid into a booth near the window, and my dad wasted no time ordering a coffee while I looked over the menu.

“So,” he started, leaning back in the booth. “What’s new? How’s school?”

“It’s… been a lot,” I admitted, stirring my water with a straw. “But good. Mostly good.”

He gave me a knowing look. “Mostly?”

I hesitated, not wanting to dive into the bad that had been my life lately. “You know, just the usual. Classes, making friends, figuring it all out.”

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it entirely, but he knew if I wanted to tell him I would “Well, you’re strong. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

When the food came, we both dove in, chatting between bites. He told me about work, his recent golf games, and a new neighbor who’d moved in down the street. I told him about my classes—leaving out all the drama.

By the time we left the diner, I felt lighter. Being with my dad always had that effect on me. As we walked to the car, he draped an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m proud of you, honey,” he said softly.

That one sentence made the entire trip home worth it. 

“Thanks, Dad. I’m proud of you too.”

The ride home was filled with music and easy conversation. Once we got back, we settled into the living room, 

We were lounging on the couch in the living room. My dad had just hit play on one of his favorite old Westerns when his phone buzzed on the side table. He leaned over to grab it, squinting at the screen.

“Who’s texting you this late?” I teased, stretching my legs out across the couch.

He chuckled. “It’s Jimmy.”

At the mention of Matt, Chris, and Nick’s dad, I sat up a little straighter. “What’s he saying?”

My dad raised an eyebrow as he read the message. “Apparently, Matt and Chris have been talking about you. They want us to come to their big Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I don’t know, honey,” he said, holding up his phone like I could read the screen from across the room. “But Jimmy says they’ve been going on about you and he and Mary Lou wanted to invite us.”

I frowned, conflicted. After everything that had happened, the idea of sitting at a dinner table with Matt and Chris felt… complicated. Sure the past month between us has been fine but bringing family into it was a whole different thing.

My dad must’ve seen the hesitation on my face because he set his phone down and gave me a reassuring look. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It’s your call, honey.”

I bit my lip, my mind racing. “I dont know”

He nodded, respecting my boundaries like he always did. “Well, think about it. Might be fun. And you know how much I love Thanksgiving food.”

I laughed softly. “You really can’t resist a good turkey, huh?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a grin.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” I finally said.

I watched my dad as he set his phone down, a somewhat upset look on his face. It hit me then, how long it had been since we’d shared a Thanksgiving dinner with anyone besides each other. Not since my mom left. The idea of being around a big family again made my heart ache a little, but it also made me happy thinking about my dad having people around him.

“You know what?” I said, sitting up. “Let’s do it.”

His eyebrows shot up in happiness. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded firmly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It’ll be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in forever. And it’s not just for me, it’ll be good for you too.”

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made me smile even wider. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I just… I think we should go. Jimmy’s always been good to you, It’s nice. Feels like the right thing to do.”

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Alright then. We’ll go.”

I grinned “You better be ready to charm the room tomorrow. I’m not letting you sit in the corner like an antisocial weirdo.”

He laughed again, his face lighting up in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. “No promises”

The next morning, the house was filled with a calm buzz of preparation. I stood in front of my small vanity, eyeing the outfit I had carefully picked out the night before. A loose white sweater paired with a tight black skirt that laid neatly on the bed, along with black sheer tights, white socks, and my favorite pair of black Converse. Simple but put together.

I slipped on the skirt, smoothing it down over the tights before tugging the sweater over my head. I grabbed my curling iron and added loose waves to my hair, the curls falling softly over my shoulders. I fluffed them out a bit for volume before stepping back to examine the final result in the mirror. 

As I laced up my Converse, my dad knocked lightly on my door and peeked his head in. “You ready, honey?”

“Just about,” I said, standing up and grabbing my phone. “How do I look?”

He gave me a once-over and smiled warmly. “Beautiful. They’ll be lucky to have you there.”

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the grin spreading across my face. “Thanks, Dad. Let’s go before you get sentimental.”

We grabbed our coats and headed out the door, the crisp November air biting at my cheeks as we climbed into the car. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in my stomach as we drove to the Sturniolo house. 

Once we got to their house my dad knocked on the door. My dad and Jimmy shared a handshake and a chuckle, their longtime bond evident in the way they exchanged knowing looks. 

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you,” Jimmy said warmly as he greeted me with a big hug, his presence welcoming. “You’ve grown up so fast, Last time I really saw you was in diapers.” He said.

My dad chuckled and gave me a playful nudge. “It’s true. She’s a little too grown up for my liking.”

Jimmy laughed heartily and patted my dad on the back. “I get it, buddy. But she’s doing well, right?”

“She is,” my dad replied, his voice filled with pride. “She’s been keeping busy with school. It’s nice to finally have some time to relax and visit.”

Mary Lou came over, greeting us both with her characteristic warmth. “Y/N, you look wonderful!,” she said, turning to my father with a smile. “It’s so great to finally see you again!”

“Thank you for having us,” my dad replied, shaking her hand. “It means a lot. Y/N and I could use a good Thanksgiving this year.”

“I’m just happy we could make it happen,” Mary Lou said, beaming. “And we’re glad you could join us.”

As I followed my dad inside, I could see how at ease he was in this familiar environment. It was clear that Jimmy and my dad had a special, long-lasting friendship. They went to school together and worked together right out of graduation.

After some more warm greetings, Jimmy called the boys upstairs. “Boys grab Justin and bring him downstairs. Dinner’s almost ready!”

I caught sight of Justin walking down the stairs, and we exchanged a quick hug. “Long time, no see,” he said with a grin. “How’s school?”

“Busy, but good.” I replied.

We made our way to the dining room, where the table was set beautifully. As we sat down, Matt made his way sitting next to me and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Sorry, Chris and Nick’s idea” he whispered while everyone passed around food.

“Just admit you missed seeing me and couldn't wait till friday” I winked and passed him the rolls.

“You wish, sweetheart” I rolled my eyes at him and turned to listen to everyone's small talk and join in on some conversations.

After dinner, the boys invited me upstairs to hang out for a bit. We all settled into their room, laughing and chatting about everything from school to random things that had happened throughout the week. 

“Y/N, you ready to head out?” My dad yelled up the stairs, sounding a little tired but still upbeat.

I stood up, stretching. “Yeah, I’ll be down in a second!” I called back, feeling a little reluctant to leave but knowing I should head home.

As I started to head downstairs, Matt followed me. When we reached the bottom, my dad was waiting in the living room, ready to go.

He smiled at me, his hands in his pockets. “Alright, honey, let’s get going. It’s been a long day.”

Matt, who had been hovering near the doorway, spoke up. “Hey, if you want to stay longer, I can drive her home later,” he said casually, glancing between my dad and me.

I hesitated, looking between the two of them. “Thanks, Matt, but I think I’ll go with my dad tonight,” I said, offering a small smile.

Before I could head for the door, my dad raised a hand. “You know what? Why don’t you stay? I’ll head out. You're young, stay and have fun,” he said, a warm smile on his face. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

I glanced back at Matt, who was looking at me with a raised brow. “You sure?” I asked my dad.

“Yeah, absolutely,” my dad assured me. “Have a good time, and I’ll get going. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

I looked at Matt again, and he gave me a reassuring nod. “You don’t have to worry about getting home, Y/N. I’ve got you covered whenever you’re ready to head back,” he said with a small grin.

With a deep breath, I looked at my dad and smiled. “Okay, I’ll stay,” I said, feeling a little bad I wasn't going home with him.

“Sounds good,” my dad said with a chuckle, heading toward the door. “Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

I gave him a hug and waved him off before turning back to Matt “You want me so bad, its insane”

Matt laughed “You know I do, I'm just waiting on you”

“Maybe you'll get lucky tonight” I winked at him before running past him up the stairs.

Around 10 PM, I finally decided it was time to head home. I had stayed later than I intended, but it had been a good night. I turned to Matt, who was talking to the guys. “I think I’m ready to go now,” I said, slipping my coat on. I gave Nick, Chris and Justin a quick hug.

He looked up and smiled, standing up. “Alright, let’s head out.” We made our way to the door, Matt grabbing his coat, and walked outside to his car.

The drive was easy and relaxed, just the two of us talking about random things. We discussed what we needed for the dorm. It was a comfortable silence in between the chatter.

When we finally pulled up to my house, I turned to Matt and smiled, “Thanks for bringing me home,” I said, feeling a warmth in my chest. “I had a really good time.”

He looked over at me, the car engine still idling, and for a moment, there was a long pause. His eyes met mine, and I could feel the tension building between us. Without really thinking about it, I leaned over and kissed him, my lips pressing against his with a softness that quickly turned into something more.

The kiss deepened as Matt grabbed my face, pulling me closer, and I felt my heart race. When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he leaned back slightly, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for weeks now,” he murmured, his voice low and full of desire.

I smiled at him, my lips tingling from the kiss. “Well, I guess it’s about time then,” I said softly, running my hand over his cheek.

I paused for a second, feeling a spark of boldness. “You wanna come inside? Maybe stay the night?” I asked, my heart pounding, unsure of what he might say.

Matt hesitated, looking at me for a moment, before his lips curled into a smirk. “Are you sure? You know I’m not gonna leave after that,” he teased,

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I want you to stay.”

He leaned over and kissed me again, this time with even more urgency, and I felt a rush of excitement. “Alright, I’m in,” 

We both got out of the car, and I led him inside, “Dad, is it ok if Matt stays the night? We want to just watch a movie and chill in my room?” I asked my dad who was sitting on the couch watching his own movie.

“Sure, Matt. Watch yourself in this house.” I rolled my eyes knowing my dad fully didn't care.

“Of course sir” I grabbed Matt's hand dragging him towards the stairs excited to have him to myself for the night.

Tag -

@namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr @sophia-77n @ch0llies

[rotting--melody]

Crazy in Love . . .

Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x Gn!Human!Reader

Hello everyone! Just a heads up, this is part one of a two-part fic that I was requested to do! Well, technically, I was only asked to do part 2, but I just can't pass up an opportunity to write a cringe good yandere fic! Definitely not because I couldn't figure out how to write a good one-part Yandere fic.

wc-> 2.2k (holy shit)

cw-> yandere behavior, possessive behavior, stalker behavior, not smut yet, but trust me it will be MESSY in part 2

(fic directly below the cut)

Working for the Miguel O’Hara was not what you expected it to be.

It was worse.

Ungodly hours, strict rules, and no room for error. Working for him was what you imagined being the right hand for the devil was like. Not to mention that it seemed like he had a personal vendetta against you. Whatever you did, it was never good enough -working overtime, filing his mission reports, making sure his ‘spider cave’ was spotless- nothing was enough for the man monitoring the multiverse.

And yeah, sure, the pay was good, and you did get dental and health care (he might be a monster, but he's not a villain), but god, Miguel ran you fucking ragged. Since the day you were hired, he’d been nothing but a douchebag to you.

Of course, it wasn’t all bad. You’d made many great friends, the closest being Peter B, Gwen, and Hobie. You four were practically inseparable, and everyone knew it. You and Gwen were especially close, with you taking an older-sibling role in her life. Unfortunately, there was very little free time to just hang out with them while you were at the Spider-Society headquarters. For whatever reason, Miguel never let you spend longer than your (generous) ninety-minute lunch break outside of the dark little cave he called his office. And usually, that time was interrupted by none other than Mr.O’Hara himself. You knew that in being his personal secretary you’d be expected to run around and do things for him, but at this point, you felt like Andrea Sachs in The Devil Wears Prada, constantly running your ass off for an ungrateful and spectacularly moody boss. To be entirely honest, compared to Miguel O’Hara, Miranda Priestly looked like a fucking angel.

You quietly chuckled to yourself, conjuring up the image of Miguel strutting around in a pair of violently red Prada heels.

“What's so funny, Y/n?” Gwen asks, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“Nothing,” you dismissed, “Just thought of something funny.” You lightly cleared your throat and took a sip from the water bottle in front of you.

A sudden beeping erupted from your pocket, and you gave a loud groan.

“Lunch break over already?” Gwen says with a small sigh.

“Yeah, sorry kiddo,” you say, checking the message on your phone. Of course, it’s Miguel, probably wanting you to do something he could easily do himself. “You want to swing by my place after I get off? We could watch some cheesy flick and gossip like high-schoolers.”

Gwen excitedly nods her head, and you give her a soft smile. Giving her a parting hug, you quickly make your way back to your and Miguel's shared ‘office’. There, you’re met with the annoyingly attractive back of your boss.

“You’re late.” He grumbles.

You make a sound of exasperation. “I literally came here as soon as you called. Sorry that this place- that you designed, by the way- is built like a fucking labyrinth!” God, did he get on your nerves.

Miguel's only response is a grunt as you roll your eyes and sit down in your chair in the corner of his office. You quickly start pulling up mission logs on one monitor, and live footage of ongoing missions on the other. Your fingers fly fast across your keyboard, filling out what you’re able to on the logs, while your eyes quickly scan the many videos of Spider-people currently engaged in battle. You had always been fairly good at multitasking, so the work you did for Miguel had never been overly complicated. Truth be told. You really had no idea why he chose you for the position of his secretary. You’d think with Lyla, he’d have everything he’d ever need right at his fingertips.

After a few hours of mindless paperwork and watching battles, you decided to call it quits. Your eyes had started to burn, and your fingers were cramping. Finishing up the last few lines of what was (hopefully) your last log of the night, you stood up and stretched your sore muscles, and cracked a few bones.

"I'm leaving for the night, O'Hara. You have my number if anything happens."

Miguel didn't even so much as spare you a glance before you walked out of the room, already dialing Gwen's number.

《♡》

It was well into the early hours of the morning when you and Gwen finally said goodbye. After a long night of greasy food, bad films, and riveting workplace gossip (you would not believe how much drama happens in a place where everyone is fundamentally the same), you wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a comfortable rest on your newly cleaned sheets.

You stretched your muscles a bit, popping a few joints in your shoulders and back for a little extra relief.

You yawn slightly and absentmindedly scratched at your arm while you pick out what to wear to bed. Deciding on a simple pair of black booty shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you throw them into your bed, grab your towel, and quickly make your way into the bathroom.

After letting the water heat up for a couple seconds, you put on your favorite playlist and step in. Despite being thoroughly exhausted, your sheets are new, which means it's time to shave.

After shaving, shampooing, conditioning, and washing yourself, you step out of the shower. You towel dry your hair and then wrap the plush fabric around your body.

Making your way into your bed room, something is immediately wrong. Your instincts are telling you to run, get out, hide, but for some reason, you don't listen. You do, however, go into the top drawer of your nightstand and pull out an incredibly sharp knife (which you had stored for just this reason).

You swiftly make your way around your room, checking in the closet, under the bed, and behind the door. Nothing and no one is there.

"Maybe I'm finally going crazy for real. . ." you say to yourself, shaking your head slightly. You return the knife to it's drawer, and go to get into your pajamas.

You glace over to your bed, slightly confused.

"I could have sworn I grabbed my shorts out?"

《♡》

It's been several months since you lost your shorts, and things only seem to be getting weirder. You've been losing stuff more regularly. First your shorts, then one of your favorite jackets, then your favorite necklace, your perfume, nail polish, and most recent, your body wash (which you had just bought).

What's more, Miguel has also been acting different. Not nicer, but also not meaner. More. . . protective? But not in a good way. Your lunch break was cut from ninety minutes to fifty, and you were no longer allowed to eat in the cafeteria or common spaces.

"What the fuck do you mean I can eat lunch in the café anymore?" You angrily question Miguel.

"You're distracting the others. From now on, you'll have twenty minutes to get your food, and thirty minutes to eat. Which you will be doing in here, with me." Miguel states monotonously, not even bothering to glance at you.

You let out a scoff and roll your eyes. "At this point, why don't you just put me in a cage and chain me to the desk?"

Miguel lets out a breathy chuckle, turning around to look you dead in the eyes. "Don't tempt me, pequiña."

The pit that formed in your stomach after hearing those words was most certainly not one of fear.

You get angry just thinking about that interaction. It had been a couple weeks since it was implemented, and while you had adjusted rather fast, you still didn't like it in the slightest.

Miguel has also been giving you more work, forcing you to stay later and later. You swore that if he wasn't such good eye-candy, you would have throttled him.

Speaking of eye-candy. . . You glace over to Miguel's work station to snoop. If he's going to keep you cooped up in here, you should be allowed to spy on what he's doing.

He's standing hunched over his over-the-top computer set up, watching his many screens and muttering quietly to himself. He calls Lyla up and asks her something quietly. You swear you heard your name, but you were so far away it was hard to discern anything he was saying.

You shake your head and turn back to your work.

《♡》

It was nearly midnight now, and you were still in this wretched place. You let out a loud groan and run your eyes.

“Hey, O’Hara? I'm leaving. Don't call me in tomorrow either, I need the day off.”

Your statement seems to pique Miguel's interest, as he finally moved from the position he's been standing in for hours. He turns around, leaning onto his desk and placing his hands on his incredibly tiny waste (seriously, how is that even fair??).

“Oh really?” he askes, voice laced with something you can't quite pick up on “And why is that?”

You groan again, fed up with your man-child boss.

“Because I just need a day to myself, okay? You've been working me to the bone, and I just need a massage and probably a visit to the chiropractor.” You emphasize your statement by harshly cracking your back on your chair.

He chuckles softly to himself and lightly licks his lips. “You could always ask me for help with that pequiña.”

You flush red at his statement and cough a little. Damn him for being so sexy. . .

“I uh. . . I think I'm okay. Thanks for the offer though, boss.” You can feel yourself practically sweating and you jump up from your seat and begin packing your bag.

Miguel lets out a soft hum and turns back to his computer, smiling ever so slightly.

You glace back up at your boss before you head out of the room, grabbing the little trash bag sitting in the corner of the room to dispose of on your way out. You leave with one final glace back at his broad shoulders.

The walk through Headquarters is silent. Despite being a hub for all spider folk, the halls are quiet, leaving the small click of your shoes on the tile as the only noise.

Lugging the trash bag through the halls, you reach a large dumpster and begin to haul it inside. As you swing the bag above your head, the shitty plastic gives and the contents spill out over the ground.

“Fuck! Eww that's so nasty oh my god!” You yell in disgust at the trash flies everywhere, covering you in the mysterious liquid every bag of trash seems to have.

You quickly wipe your hands off on your pants as you being to (begrudgingly) pick up the garbage from the floor. Crumpled papers, some broken cables, a couple of water bottles, a bottle of your bodywash, some rotting-

Wait.

“What the hell?”

There, sitting innocently on the ground, is a bottle of the bodywash you use. How the hell did this get here?

The bottle is mostly empty, but sloshes slightly when you pick it up, like someone has filled it with water or something in an attempt to prolong its use. You're a little creeped out.

Okay, you're a lot creeped out.

The only people who use the bin in Miguel's ‘office’ are you and him. And you certainly don't remember bringing a used bottle of soap into work to throw out.

Maybe me and Miguel just use the same soap? I mean, I'm pretty sure he lives here so. . .

A chill runs down your back as you hear a voice from the darkness.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

You quickly hide the bottle behind your back as you spin around to face him.

“Miguel! Hi! Yeah, everything is okay, I just spilled the trash, sorry to bother you.” You speak fast and nervously, inching closer to the trash bin to toss the hidden bottle inside.

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, clearly questioning your suspicious actions.

“Ah. Okay then. Do you need any help?” He asks. It feels like he's testing you.

You nervously chuckle. “Nope! I'm all good! Sorry again for bothering you, I'll be leaving now!” In one quick motion, you throw the bottle into the trash behind you and speed walk out of the building and away from your boss.

《♡》

You lay in your bed, unblinking at the ceiling. The soap had been keeping you up. You know it's probably nothing, but with all the weird shit that's been happening to you recently, everything has been putting you on edge.

You toss and turn, your mind both racing with thoughts and completely empty. You don't even realize you're falling asleep until your eyes shut, and you succumb to the darkness.

《♡》

You awake with a start, and a horrible sensation of dread courses through your entire body. You sit up in bed, blinking the sleep from your eyes and scanning your room.

You see nothing.

Until you don't.

A large, shadowy figure stands unmoving in the corner of your room. Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the darkness.

“Oh pequiña. . . I really wish you hadn't seen that earlier. . .”

TO BE CONTINUED‼️‼️

[noellawrites]

Dark!Sonny Carisi R*pe and Impregnation HC’s

a/n: happy anniversary my love @rafaslittleboy <3 also gender neutral but afab reader

warning: DARK CONTENT AHEAD, please do not read if this disturbs you! includes: rape, impregnation, virginity loss, inaccurate portrayal of abortion laws, manipulation, forced pregnancy, lmk if i missed any

- As Dominick Carisi Junior’s paralegal, you have a very professional relationship with him. Always running errands, filing papers, gathering reports

- But one day, he asks if you’re free that evening to babysit his three kids

- And you agree, of course, knowing he’s been going through a rough period with his wife

- But when you arrive, only Sonny is there

- “Sorry kid, there’s been a change ‘a plans. ‘Manda’s mom’s watchin’ the kids, ‘n ‘Manda’s off doin’ work stuff,” Dominick sighs, welcoming you in

- You’d been alone with Mr. Carisi many times, but this felt… different. The vibes were off

- He tells you to stick around, that you can help him out with work stuff and he’ll still give you money for it

- You share a few drinks, not unlike some of the late nights you’ve spent in his office together

- Later on, you’re definitely tipsy and sitting on the couch next to your boss

- All of a sudden, his lips are on yours in a passionate kiss, and you feel sick and confused

- Your brain is lagging behind your body, and Mr. Carisi is pulling your underwear and bottoms down your legs

- “Shh, this is jus’ between us, kiddo. Lemme make ‘ya feel good,” he say in your ear as your head lolls back

- At some point, you end up on the bed and he’s pulling his dick out of his pants

- “Been waitin’ so long f’this,” you hear him growl before he pushes in, painfully taking your virginity as you lay paralyzed with fear

- “Mr. Carisi, s-stop!” you whimper, which is pretty much all you can do as he fucks you deeper and more passionately

- He’s thrusting so roughly, and after a few moments you can feel him blow his load in you as he tells you how tight your hole is

- You pass out at some point and wake up in his marital bed the next morning with a dull, throbbing pain between your legs and a check for seventy-five thousand dollars on the nightstand next to you

- You think you must’ve imagined it, you’re in shock and disbelief. Your boss, the man who has worked to bring sexual predators to justice for the last decade? Raping you?

- And the next day at work, Mr. Carisi acts totally normal. Talks about how proud he is of his kids, how his son just took his first steps. It’s almost like nothing ever happened between you

- He gives you a wink, saying he’s always down for some more fun, and that’s the last you hear of it

- You love your job, and you need it, so you go back to acting normal with Mr. Carisi

- Until six weeks later, when you start arriving late and disheveled, sometimes calling out entirely

- “What’s goin’ on with ‘ya, kiddo? C’mon, talk t’me,” Sonny presses, putting a hand on your shoulder comfortingly

- He hasn’t crossed your boundaries since that night, so you’ve gotten more comfortable with him again

- “I’ve just been really sick,” you mumble, rubbing your forehead

- “Maybe ah’ should take ‘ya to a doctor,” he frowns, feigning concern. He knows exactly what’s “wrong” with you.

- “I’m fine,” you mumble, but after a few moments you get up and run to the bathroom to puke again

- “Let’s go,” you sigh, “I probably have the flu or something.”

- The doctor writes down your symptoms and orders a blood test, and you wait in the lobby with Sonny for about an hour until your results are ready

- You know you must be imagining it when the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant, about six weeks along

- Sonny hugs you, tells you how amazing it is that you’ve created the miracle of life together, and you stand still in shock.

- The first words to come out of your mouth are, “when can I come back for an abortion?”

- Sonny’s smile falls and he grabs your wrist, “what tha’ hell?”

- You tell him you don’t want a kid, you’re too young and not ready for it, but he’s not listening

- "'Ya really want an abortion? I ain't gonna let that happen, kiddo. I'll see 'ya in court," he snaps.

- The nurse gives you some resources but you know that Mr. Carisi will find a way to get what he wants, like always

- Your lawyer tells you that Amanda has been unfaithful to Sonny and he just found out that Nicky Carisi isn't his biological son, which is why he's so adamant on forcing you to carry to term

- Your lawyer goes for the rape angle, since you were actually raped and shouldn't be forced to carry the child

- Needless to say, Sonny and his lawyer eviscerate you on the stand, and it's emphasized by the sob story of what happened with Amanda

- He truly sees you and this child as his second chance, and there is no way he's letting you ruin it

- You can't take care of your newborn in New York City on a paralegal salary, and Sonny convinces you to move in with him and out of your shitty apartment

- You share custody, but slowly you can feel yourself becoming more attached to both Sonny and your baby

- You have to work from home, both the new baby and the postpartum struggles making it too hard to go in and do your job

- Before long, Sonny is already talking about baby number two. He needs this family, needs to rebuild what he lost through Amanda's infidelity

- That's when you realize, it was hopeless to ever try and leave

[dragonfly0808]

Someone save Ekko from me cause I’m having way too much fun in between writing the serious moments

———

Ekko sighed heavily, going to pinch the bridge of his nose as Jinx rummaged through the bag, “Are you really going to do an… outfit change… right now?”

“Hey, presentation is important for a Revolution. And don’t worry, I didn’t forget you. Here, put this on.”

She tossed a few things at him, including a shirt, which, when held up-

“Jinx… this is a croptop.”

“Yep.”

“This is a croptop.”

“You got something against them?”

————————————

Isha’s expression brightened up, the girl straightening up before gesturing, pointing at him- no, not him- but towards…

“Oh… you want a hoverboard?”

Isha nodded enthusiastically.

Sevika snorted, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at his barely hidden panic at the prospect.

“…I’ll think about it.”

Sevika quietly shook her head, “And I thought Jinx had a weak spine when it came to Isha.” She leaned towards the kid, gently mussing up her hair, “Keep it up and you’ll have the entire undercity wrapped around your little finger in no time kiddo.”

Isha giggled.

Ekko sighed.

———

This is Ekko with Jinx and Isha

———

Also someone save me cause I’m working on ch 7 and, whilst I know what I’m gonna do for ch 8 and 9, I have to start figuring out what the actual fuck I’m going to do with the rest of the plot aaaaaahhhhhhh

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 27: Found

You try to figure out what you want. Joel and Ellie go on patrol.A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. CLEARLY. It's me. Homophobia. Smut-adjacent. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 11.3k (THIS IS GETTING TO BE A PROBLEM I'M SO SORRY)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late August, 2027 

“You’re making this hard on purpose,” Ellie’s nose scrunched as she held her guitar. 

You laughed. 

“Promise, Kiddo, I’m not.” 

“Sometimes I really don’t like you, you know,” she grumbled. You snorted. “I’m serious! Swear you make me do shit the hard way because you fucking enjoy watching me struggle…” 

“You learn better when you do it yourself and do it the hard way,” you shrugged, leaning back against a post of your porch. You stretched a leg out onto the step below and picked a little at your guitar. “You’ll never learn if I just give you all the answers.” 

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, leaning to the side to add more of her disorganized scrawl to her notebook. “Swear you didn’t have to work this hard at shit…” 

“I started a lot younger than you,” you replied, picking up the pace on your guitar and adding slaps and pops, no real rhyme or reason to it, just what your fingers felt like doing. “Everything is easier when you start young. And hey, you’ve got a leg up on any asshole who tries to learn when they’re my age.” 

“Because you’re a dinosaur?” She looked up at you from her notebook, a small smirk on her face. 

“Nah,” you replied. “They’d been dead like three years when I was born, I’m not THAT old.” 

She laughed and went back to her notes as you kept playing, looking out down the path from your yard to the road beyond. 

It was sweltering hot and you’d never been more thankful for a breeze or the fact that it was your day off from the stables. The hair that had pulled loose from your braids stuck to your skin and you’d been sweating all day, waking up with your sheets balled up at the foot of your bed and your tank top damp even with the ceiling fan on. You hadn’t even put on jeans that day, throwing on one of the few dresses that had made their way into your closet in the almost two years you’d been in Jackson. The first you’d taken when Maria mentioned seeing one she thought would fit you, not long before things fell apart with Joel. You’d intended to wear it to the Tipsy Bison on a night there was dancing once it was warmer, opening the door to Joel when you were dressed like what your mother would call “a proper lady.” You’d pictured dancing with him, his hand sliding up the inside of your thigh when you sat down to have a drink until you couldn’t take it anymore and you practically dragged him home, riding him with the skirt bunched up around your waist the second you were in the door. 

That had never happened. That dress stayed tucked safely away at the back of your closet, not able to bring yourself to part with it and the image of that night with him. 

The other dress was perfect for days like today, long and loose and thin cotton that made the oppressive heat of late summer tolerable. Even if Ellie had looked at you like you had two heads when she saw you in the damn thing. 

You didn’t mind, though. You were just glad that you had gotten to the point that you liked spending time with Ellie again. That you’d started feeling much of anything at all. 

The first month you got back was hazy. You didn’t really leave your house at first, not able to contribute much at the stable and not seeing a reason to move otherwise. 

You weren’t entirely sure how many days passed before there was the first knock at your door. 

It wasn’t an Ellie knock. The sound didn’t carry her chaotic energy or almost audacious nature. Instead, it was hesitant but sturdy and firm without being forceful or insistent. You stayed flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling of the closet for a minute to see if the knock would come again. It didn’t. You stared at the ceiling a while longer but, eventually, you had to pee. You forced yourself to move and, on your way back from the bathroom, passed your front door. You hesitated for a moment before you went and opened it, to see if whoever knocked had left a note. 

On your porch was a box filled with crackers and jerky and fruit and carrots and celery. All things you could eat without needing to cook or, really, do anything at all. You knew it was from Joel, even though it hadn’t sounded like his knock, either. There was no one else who would have brought it because no one else knew why you were locked inside your home. But he was no where to be seen. He didn’t leave a note. 

A few days later, you forced yourself to go to the stable to check on the horses. The fillies and the colt weren’t making much progress without you - you’d have to probably start nearly from scratch with them once your arm healed - but you were able to feel somewhat useful, brushing horses down, checking on their hooves to see when they’d need to be shoed, just giving them some love and attention. That helped you feel a little more like yourself. 

Ellie started coming by again a few days after that. She showed up one afternoon with a CD and a sandwich from the mess hall, marching into your living room like nothing had happened, complaining about another kid in town and how Joel wasn’t going to let her patrol with anyone but him for a while. 

“I could get partnered with Dina but no,” she drew the last word out, sprawled on your couch, rolling her eyes as she did. “The old man is convinced I’m going to drop dead if he’s not looking out for me for five minutes…” 

“I’m sure he’ll ease up once he sees how capable you are,” you said, sitting on the loveseat and picking up the CD case she’d brought with her. The Clash this time. “Mick Jones and Joe Strummer, nice choice. Why do you want to go out with Dina, anyway? I thought not everything was about girls…” 

“Shut up.” 

“Nah.” 

You were’t sure if you were really doing better or if you’d just found a way to push the hurt down inside yourself again. You weren’t sure there was a way to recover from this, from the idea that you’d probably never see your child again. Clinging to the possibility felt so necessary but so foolish. You weren’t sure if it was reason or denial but it didn’t really matter. You weren’t sure you could live without that possibility dulling the jagged edges of your grief and pain. 

The boxes of food made regular appearances on your porch. You never saw Joel. 

When you were close to getting your cast off, Ellie came by your house but didn’t shove her way inside the way she usually did. Instead, she hovered on your porch. 

“OK don’t be mad,” she said, a serious look on her face. 

“Off to a great start,” you replied.

She glared at you for a second before pressing on. 

“Joel sent me with a message,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you that the movie tonight was something called Ever After and that he thought you would like it and that he wasn’t going to be there so you should go. And to not be mad. I think you shouldn’t be mad, too, by the way.” 

“Not mad,” you smiled a little. “I just… I don’t know…” 

“Come on, Bambi,” Ellie said, dropping some of her pretense now. “Dina’s going with Jesse and I’ve never seen it and I really don’t want to be stuck sitting by them while they suck face.” 

You sighed, looking back over your shoulder in the direction of Joel’s house. You found yourself looking that way a lot. 

“Alright,” you said after a moment, looking back at Ellie. “I’ll go. But only to save you from your crush…” 

“I’m going to ignore that last part and just be happy you’re going,” she said, a little smug. “Even though you’re annoying about it.” 

“So annoying,” you agreed, stepping into your boots, turning on the lamp and following her out the door. 

It was strangely easy to adjust to being around the people of Jackson again. Ellie gave you something to focus on, busy trying to distract her from the Dina and Jesse acting exactly like you remembered some of your friends in high school acted with their boyfriends. 

“What’s this movie about, anyway?” Ellie asked as the two of you settled in toward the back of the room. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it,” you said. “But I think it was like Cinderella.” 

Ellie looked at you and made a face. 

“Like the fairy tale.” 

“Yup,” you replied. She stared at you and you laughed a little. “What?” 

“I’m just trying to picture you liking a fucking fairy tale.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as best you could with one in a cast. 

“What?” She teased. “Don’t tell me you like some stupid story where love solves everyone’s problems…” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Julie, the woman you’d seen a few times at the Tipsy Bison and when she went out on patrol, appeared alongside Ellie, a large bowl of popcorn in her hands. 

“It’s bullshit,” Ellie said. “There’s a reason they’re stories for little kids.” 

“Maybe you just haven’t loved that way yet,” she smiled a little before nodding to the chair on the other side of you. “Seat taken?” 

You hoped you didn’t just stare at her for too long. People didn’t just talk to you in Jackson, not without a reason, let alone try to sit by you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“All yours,” you said, tugging your legs in close so she could pass you and sit down. She settled in beside you and smiled, holding out the bowl. 

“Thanks,” she said. “Popcorn?” 

“Sure,” you said after a moment, taking some with your good hand. “Thank you.” 

“Course,” she smiled a little bigger in a lopsided, almost cocky way. “What’s the point of popcorn if you don’t share it?” 

The movie was good. You’d only seen it once or twice before the outbreak but you’d liked it then, too. Cinderella was smart and capable, the prince was handsome and kind and you liked to imagine the way life was in that period of time. 

“OK so that wasn’t terrible,” Ellie said as you headed out with her and Julie. 

“Told you,” you teased a little. 

“No one told me that sometimes the girls in fairy tales got to be badasses,” she replied. “I might have liked the stories more then!” 

“The girls are always badasses,” Julie said. “They just try to hide it, scares the men otherwise.” 

Ellie snorted. 

“Sounds right.” 

You reached Joel’s. There was a light on in his living room and you felt the familiar tug in you to go inside and join him. Just let yourself in the front door and settle in like it was yours. 

“I’m gonna go tell the old man that his taste in movies isn’t totally awful,” Ellie said, heading up the front walk. “Still want help tomorrow at the stable?” 

“Stalls ain’t gonna muck themselves,” you replied and held up your still healing arm. “And this isn’t much help.” 

“Ugh,” she groaned good naturedly. “Night!” 

You watched until she made it to the front door - not that the precaution was really necessary here but it made you feel better - and you turned to Julie, your good hand stuffed in your pocket. 

“I’m that way and to the left,” you said. “So…” 

“Mind if I join you?” She asked. “Nice night, figure I’ll take the scenic route.” 

You looked at her for a moment. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Not much to see though.” 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she smiled one of those lopsided smiles and fell into step beside you, walking a little slower than you and you slowed down to match her pace. You looked ahead. “So, how’ve you been doing? Don’t see you at the Bison much anymore.” 

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Just haven’t felt like going out.” You looked over at her and had the passing thought that she was pretty. Young, with long, dark hair and bright eyes and full lips.“How about you?” 

“Oh you know,” she waved you off. “Same old, same old. The berries are coming into season though, have you been to check out the orchards and stuff?” 

“I’ve ridden past them,” you said. “Haven’t exactly spent time there, though.” 

“You should!” She brightened at that, even more than she already was. The two of you came to a stop at your front walk. “Think you’d like it. You should come with me sometime, it’d be fun.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you smiled a little tightly. “This is me, so…” 

“Nice place,” she smiled back, looking more genuine than yours felt. “Well, whenever you want to check it out, let me know. Hope to see you around.” 

“You too,” you said, standing there awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading up the walk and into your house. 

You went to the mess hall the next morning for breakfast. Dinner, too. And soon, your cast was off and you were going there for most meals, even if it was just to grab something to bring home or go to the stables. The food boxes stopped showing up on your porch. 

Instead, you’d come back from the stables and find new guitar strings waiting for you there or a CD that you didn’t have or a copy of Titanic on VHS, the one that took two tapes and you had to get up halfway through to change it. 

You’d told Joel he should move on. You weren’t sure if you really wanted him to - you doubted you’d be able to stomach seeing him with someone else - but you didn’t want him to be alone, either. You didn’t want to drag him down with you just because you couldn’t separate his past from your own. 

“OK so I think I have it,” Ellie said, pulling you out of your head and making your fingers still. “Can you look?” 

She shoved the notebook your way and you leaned over your guitar to look at it, fingering the chords but not playing them. 

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “I think that’s probably closer to what you’re looking for, give it a go.” 

You pushed the notebook back towards her and she set her guitar on her lap, adjusting it for a second before playing it. You nodded along, watching as she scrunched her face, getting more and more frustrated before she groaned. 

“That’s not right either,” she leaned her head back on the post at her back. “Song writing shouldn’t be this hard. This is bullshit.” 

“The shit that’s worth doing is hard, kid,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you try thinking about it again for a minute. Do you want it to feel urgent or slow and confident? Both are strong but they’re going to have different vibes.” 

She sighed and closed her eyes. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well,” you shrugged, settling back with your guitar. “Figure out how you’re feeling and what you want the song to say about it. It’ll come to you.” 

You went back to playing as Ellie picked her notebook back up, gnawing on the end of her pen. 

“I didn’t know you played!” 

You stopped and your head shot up from its place on the post to see Julie standing at the end of your walk, her hands in the pockets of her shorts, her thick hair piled on top of her head, her arms looking sculpted and strong in her tank top. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come up?” 

“Um…” 

“Sure!” Ellie said before you had a chance to really think about it. Julie reached over the short fence and unlatched the gate before opening it and coming up to your porch, sitting on the bottom step so she was looking up at you and Ellie. 

“Didn’t know there was a guitar club in town,” she said, folding one leg into her chest and looping her arms around her shin. “Don’t stop on my account! What song was that?” 

“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” you said, running your fingers up and down the neck of the guitar. “Just… fidgeting, really.” 

“Yeah, Bambi is fucking awesome,” Ellie said. “Best guitar player in town, easy.” 

“Ellie,” you gave her a look but she ignored you. 

“Seriously, you name it and she can probably play it,” she said. “She knows so much about music it’s insane.” 

“Not really,” you cut her off. “I just like music so I learned about what I liked, that’s all…” 

“Oh bullshit,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “She’s a human juke box, try her.” 

“Do you mind?” Julie asked, looking at you with her brows raised. Her eyes were bright green and almost sharp. 

“As long as you’re prepared to be disappointed,” you shrugged. “I can try.” 

Ellie scoffed and Julie ignored her. 

“I remember this song from when I was a kid, just before the outbreak,” she said. “It actually took me a while to track down the name of it after and you might think it’s silly but… I’m With You? Know that one?” 

You smiled a little. 

“I know that one,” you said, settling the guitar on your lap. “Haven’t tried to play it before, though. Avril’s not really my wheelhouse, so… go easy on me.” 

You couldn’t remember exactly how the song started but you remembered the chorus and you remembered a verse from there. The music just trailed off at the end, not really remembering how the song ended either, and you awkwardly drummed your fingers on the body of the guitar when you stopped playing, Ellie and Julie both watching you. 

“Right, well,” you said. “Like I said, not really my wheelhouse and…” 

“That was fantastic!” Julie cut you off, her broad smile making the freckles on her cheeks rise. 

“Told you,” Ellie said. “She’s the best.” 

“Well I figured that much,” Julie rolled her eyes a little dramatically but smiled that cocky smile as she did before looking back to you again. “Thanks for letting me put you on the spot.” 

“Any time,” you said before you really had a chance to think about it. She smiled a little bigger. 

“Hey, so, I hadn’t meant to break up the jam session,” she said. “I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come with me tomorrow afternoon, I was going to head out to the orchards for a bit. You’re welcome to join, get outside for a bit. It’s nice, promise.” 

“Um,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that day, trying to picture the stable schedule. “I think that would work, I have some patrols leaving that morning but should be able to step away for a bit in the afternoon…” 

“Perfect,” she said, getting up. “I need to get down to the Bison but I’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow?” 

“That’s where I’ll be,” you smiled in a way you hoped was genuine. “Looking forward to it.” 

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Ellie!” 

“Bye Julie,” she dragged her name out and gave you a look. You seriously considered kicking her. Julie laughed and started down your walk, only making it halfway to the gate before turning around and walking backwards, looking back at you with her hands in her back pockets. 

“Nice dress, by the way,” she said. “It works for you. See you tomorrow!” 

You went back to messing with your guitar as you tried to not watch her walk up the lane. Ellie was far less delicate, craning her neck until Julie turned the corner. 

She spun to face you and swatted your leg. 

“Oh my GOD,” she half whispered, half yelled at you. 

“What?” You asked, fingers stilling on the strings. 

“That!” She said. “All that fucking flirting!” 

“Ellie…” 

“Oh come ON,” she cut you off. “You may as well have fucked right on your porch, Jesus Christ…” 

“OK I will say this again,” you said, setting your guitar down beside you. “Who is and isn’t between my legs? Not your business.” 

“Well that’s just not true,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who fucked Joel and made it my business.” You sighed and went to reply but she held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you two work your shit out and get back together. But if you’re not going to figure it out then you shouldn’t just be miserable and lonely forever and Julie is hot as fuck.” 

“Ellie!” You hissed. 

“What!” She replied, her brows raised. “She is!” 

“Jesus…” 

“Just saying!” She said, her hands up in mock surrender. “Julie’s cool. And hot. I think you’d have fun. And you should at least try to have some fun sometimes instead of just being miserable all the time.”

“What if I like being miserable.” 

“Just don’t chicken out,” Ellie said, ignoring you and picking up her guitar before getting to her feet. “But I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll go see what the old man is doing for dinner. You’re welcome to come along if you’d rather not be miserable with us…” 

“Ellie.” 

“Right, right,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean it, fucking go tomorrow. You big chicken.” 

“Go home, you little brat,” you replied. She cheerfully flipped you off before heading back toward Joel’s. 

You sat on your porch for a while longer, absently playing and watching as the color of the sky slowly shifted from blue to pink to deep, inky black. The darkness seemed to swallow everything, like there wasn’t anything beyond what was right in front of you. But you knew that if you walked far enough, followed the light of the north star, you’d find things beyond what consumed here and now. 

It was late when you finally went inside, scrounging in your kitchen for the last of some of what Joel had brought you even though you weren’t particularly hungry. You turned on the stereo and just let whatever CD you’d put in last play, not really paying attention 

You found yourself thinking about Julie. About what Ellie said about Julie. 

It had been a long time since you’d had a woman flirt with you. You’d been with your fair share of women since the outbreak but flirting hadn’t really been part of it. Marisa was the first woman you’d slept with and, after Savvy came along, you stopped seeking out that kind of connection with men and kept it to strictly women. It just seemed safer. After Marisa, it had always been casual - you didn’t think you could bear another heartbreak like that - and it had always been fairly blunt. You could generally tell if they were interested in letting off some physical steam and, if they were, you had fun for a few days before they moved on. 

But things with Julie reminded you of one of your first crushes, a girl who did trick riding on the same circuit as you when you were a girl. You’d first noticed Courtney when you were both 13. She was so beautiful you couldn’t help but stare at her. At first, you’d almost resented her. She was good, damn good, and she was full of charismatic smiles and she dusted glitter across her collarbones that peeked out from the top of her costume. She was exactly who your mother wished you were and, as much as you loved bronc and bull and roping, part of you wanted to be who your mother wanted you to be. You wanted to be satisfied with what she wanted for you and you wanted to be happy being who Courtney was so effortlessly. Life would be simpler and happier if you were content with that and Courtney was proof that life existed. And you wanted it.

You settled for beating her, for a while. Narrowing your eyes at her when you passed her between rounds at competitions, looking her way when you saw your scores narrowly eclipse hers on the board. You loved it. The only thing you wanted more than beating her was her. 

Hell if you knew what to do with that. 

In hindsight, you weren’t sure she knew, either.

The first time she’d said more than two words to you was when you’d smirked at her as you held the first place trophy. You went to the locker room after the awards ceremony and you had the place almost to yourself, most of the other girls already cleaned out. The third place winner - a girl who’s name you didn’t remember - left and it was just a few seconds later that you heard the door slam into the wall. You looked up to see Courtney stalking over to you. You could see the glitter on her collarbones and her cheeks, her eyes hot and her lips full. 

“Want to tell me what the hell your problem is?” She demanded, getting so close to you that you could smell her body spray. It was almost sickly sweet and floral but on her it smelled good. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much!” 

“I don’t hate you…” you said. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” She cut you off. 

“Why do you care?” You snapped. “We compete, we’re not friends, who cares if I hate you?” 

“I care!” She snapped back. 

“Why!” 

“Because I like you!” She yelled, breathless. You just blinked at her for a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes drifting to your lips. “I like you and sometimes…” 

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Instead, you kissed her. 

It was clumsy and deeply uncertain. You’d never kissed anyone before and you had no idea what you were doing, your hands locked tight at your sides as though touching her anywhere at all was against the rules but you were risking it, anyway. Her mouth was warm and soft and it seemed oddly wet even though that made sense when you thought about it. 

After a moment you pulled back from her slightly, your eyes wide, not really believing what you’d just done. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your turn to be breathless now. “I… I don’t know…” 

“Shut up,” she kissed you that time, pressing you back against the lockers, stretching up to better reach your lips, her body hot on your own. You kissed her back, trying to focus and take in everything. How she tasted, how she smelled, how her costume hugged the slight curve of her waist. 

“Courtney!” Her mother’s shrill voice from the hall made her jump away from you and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. “You about ready honey?” 

“One minute!” She called back before turning to you. “Do you have a some paper?” 

You just nodded and fumbled in your bag for a notebook. She turned to a random page that happened to have some history notes on it and wrote her name and number at the top. Her handwriting was soft and curved and feminine and you envied that, too. She drew a little heart next to it. 

“Call me,” she said, pressing the notebook into your chest. “OK?” 

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her. You couldn’t help but stare at her. “Yeah, I will.” 

“Good,” she smiled. “See you next time, superstar. Maybe I’ll finish on top then.” 

“Courtney!” 

“Coming!” She grabbed her bag out of a nearby locker and gave you an almost sly smile before she ran out to meet her mother. 

From then on, most of your time with her was flirting. In between rounds at competitions or on the phone when you were far apart, carefully crafting your words so you’d have plausible deniability with your parents but know what the other meant. You wrote each other letters when you were apart, counted the days until you got to see each other again. When you found an empty spot when you were in the same place, you ended up tangled up together, kissing and fumbling against each other, figuring out what seemed to stoke the fires deep inside yourselves in the small moments you could find for just the two of you. 

That continued for just over a year when Courtney came to a tournament with a somber expression on her face. You frowned but she gave you a subtle shake of her head as she passed you and you kept quiet. It took a few hours before you were able to get her alone and she told you the truth of it. That her mom had found your letters to her - thankfully not signed so she had no idea who had written them but still obviously from another girl - and had told her daughter that she, unequivocally, would end it. 

“But…” you protested, trying not to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick. “But… she threatened to send me to one of those camps if I don’t and… I can’t go to that, OK? I can’t, I don’t think I could make it and…” 

You held onto her as she cried, her tears making little rivers in the glitter on her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really… I think I…” 

You kissed her before she said it. 

“Me too,” you said quietly when you pulled away. 

She sniffed and smiled a small smile.

“Maybe in another life, right?” 

“Right,” you smiled a little back. 

She dried her eyes as best she could and you watched from the stands as she gave the best performance you’d ever seen. You did the opposite. Your routine ended with a full Stroud Layout but your top foot slipped when you were getting into position and you fell off your horse, tumbling over and over yourself in the sand of the arena, the feel of it gritty in your mouth as your head spun when your body finally came to a stop. 

You didn’t make the podium and your mother didn’t push you to compete again for a while. You never saw Courtney again. 

You weren’t sure how to navigate things with Julie. You weren’t sure what you wanted to navigate with Julie. She was beautiful, yes. And she seemed kind and funny and smart. She seemed like someone you could have fun with and could care about. 

But she wasn’t Joel. You weren’t sure you could feel like you felt for him for anyone else. It seemed silly to even try. And if you couldn’t feel like that, what was the point? 

You tried to sleep but gave up eventually. After a while, you found the moose carving you’d started when you were out with Joel, looking for Savvy. It was getting closer to being done, though it was still a rough hewn thing. You weren’t sure anyone who didn’t know what it was supposed to be would realize what it was without help. But still, it felt good to make something. You let yourself be absorbed by carving it for a bit, until it felt like you’d shut your mind down enough to sleep. You set the moose down on the nightstand, arranging him so it was like he was watching you sleep, the red splotch from your blood still staining his chest.

You brought him with you to the stables the next day for something to work on when you needed the distraction. Just sitting there with your thoughts when you had downtime seemed like a bad idea. 

“You’re gonna tell me all about it, right?” Ellie asked as you gave Shimmer and Ares a final once over that morning. 

“I don’t need to tell you every time I hang out with someone,” you replied. 

“Whatever,” she said. “Just don’t chicken out. Actually go, you need a social life…” 

“What, getting sick of keeping me company all the time?” You teased, handing her the reins. 

“Yeah, you’re pretty fucking boring,” she smirked a little. You snorted. “I’m serious though. Promise you’ll go.” 

“I’m going,” you said, giving her a gentle shove toward the door. “Get out of here. Be safe on patrol, see you back tonight.” 

“Not if you’re at Julie’s you won’t,” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you watched her lead her and Joel’s horses out of the stables. 

Time dragged until that afternoon and you found yourself feeling oddly nervous, waiting for Julie to come by. You weren’t sure what time she was supposed to get there and, you realized, you didn’t know what to actually expect with any of this. 

Yeah, it had felt like flirting. And Ellie seemed sure that it was. But Ellie was a kid and your recent experience in that department was so limited you really knew fuck all about it. What if you’d read the situation completely wrong? What if Julie was just a nice woman who wanted to be friends? 

“Hey you,” Julie’s voice surprised you enough that it made you jump, water sloshing over the side of the bucket you were carrying to top off one of the horses. “Shit, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you…” 

“You’re fine,” you said quickly, refilling a waterer and setting the bucket down. 

“Now still good?” She asked. “Because I’m not in a rush, today is my day off…” 

“Now’s good,” you said quickly, trying not to think too hard about what she was wearing. Her long, lush hair was softly braided and hung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her face. Her shorts were short and her legs were long and sculpted and she wore a few long necklaces that settled into the curve between her breasts. She smiled. 

“Great!” She held up a bag you hadn’t noticed before. “Brought snacks. Not that we’ll need much, it’s peak berry season out there. We could eat ourselves sick and not make a dent.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” you smiled a little. 

“Oh, I intend to,” she smiled back. 

Julie led the way out of town, smiling and chatting with the guards at the gate for a moment before heading toward the orchards just east of town. 

“So why are you heading out here on your day off?” You asked, looking over at her. 

“Well as I think you know, one of my main contributions to the good people of Jackson is tending bar at the Bison,” she smiled. “But that’s because I just really like drinks. I found this old cocktail book when I was a teenager and I just kind of became obsessed, I guess? There was that and these books and magazines that showed what it was like before and I wanted to do that. Have the experience of going to a bar when life was different, you know? And yeah, we make some pretty decent booze here in town - or I think we do, anyway, didn’t really get to try any before - but that’s not all it takes to make a good cocktail. I can’t make a Coke or anything but I can make the syrups and infusions and things. I like to experiment in my spare time so I come out here, pick the supplies I need, and give things a try at home before I bring my ideas into the Bison.” 

“Do I get to know what you’re working on?” You asked, brows raised. 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she smirked. “But I will need a guinea pig before too long if you’re game…” 

“Far be it from me to turn down a free drink,” you replied and she smiled bigger. 

The orchards were, indeed, beautiful. You followed her to a particularly dense spot and she pulled a blanket out of the bag, spreading it on the ground in the shade of an apple tree. 

“I won’t lie,” she said, sitting back on her hands and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is probably my favorite spot.” 

“I can see why,” you nodded, drawing your knees into your chest and looking around. “It’s gorgeous here.” 

“It’s quiet here,” she laughed a little. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Jackson. Way better than the QZ we were in when I was a kid. It’s a good place with good people. I love the people, truly, I do. But everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone and it’s so hard to have anything for yourself, you know?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s a great place but… it’s definitely a lot.” 

You talked a little about your pasts. You told her - vaguely, lightly - about your time before Mitchum. She told you about her time in the Denver QZ and you almost fainted when she said she was only 31 years old. 

“How old were you when the world ended?” You gaped at her. “Do you even remember?” 

“I was seven,” she laughed. “I remember a bit. How old were you?” 

“Older than that,” you replied. “Jesus…” 

“Not that old, clearly,” she said, picking a blackberry off a bush and holding it out to you. “This is a good one, you should have it.” 

“Old enough,” you replied. “And if it’s good, you should have it.” 

“I have them all the time,” she said, stepping close to you. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing when working with the horses all day and you hoped you didn’t smell. She pressed the berry to your lips. “Try it.” 

You obeyed, taking the fruit into your mouth and biting into it, the juice bursting on your tongue. 

“See?” She smiled. “Told you.” 

The two of you ended up back on the blanket and you stretched out on it, looking up at the clouds drifting lazily past overhead, arms bare - too hot to wear anything more than a tank top - but not feeling overly exposed. Julie lay next to you, her arm brushing your own. 

“Is it weird that I sometimes don’t feel like I missed out?” She asked. You felt her adjust next to you and you glanced her way to see her lying on her side, facing you. “I mean I know there was a lot before that we don’t have now but… I dunno, I guess I still wanted to be a ballerina when the world ended. It doesn’t feel like I really gave up all that much, you know?” 

“Think that has as much to do with Jackson as anything else,” you replied, adjusting so that you were facing her. “But I get that, in a way. If I’d found Jackson when I was younger, I think I’d feel the same. Shit, what I’m doing now is exactly what I grew up wanting to do. If it wasn’t for all the time in between, the end of the world would have just turned into me getting just what I wanted. Besides all the death anyway.” 

“Think you’re right about the Jackson thing,” she smiled a little. “It’s a special place with good people. Like a few better than the others, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

She reached out and brushed some of the hair that had fallen from your braid back from your face and trailed her fingers down your cheek and your chin. 

“Yup.” 

She leaned in then, moving slow and holding your gaze, giving you all the time in the world to stop her if you wanted. 

You didn’t. 

Her kiss was soft and gentle, her lips smooth on yours. She tasted and smelled sweet and her hand went to your hip, tugging you against her. 

Julie’s body was softer than you expected as she pressed against you and, in so many ways, she felt safe and comfortable there. But she felt foreign, too. You’d become accustomed to a different form on yours, one that was larger and broader and firmer. 

You tried not to think about him as her kiss deepened, as your hand went to her waist and trailed over her side but stopped short of cupping her breast. 

She nudged you onto your back and she settled on top of you, her chest pressed tight to yours, her hips starting to rock gently against you. You ran your hands over her back to the top of her ass but didn’t go lower, not able to shake the subtle wrongness of kissing someone and feeling someone who wasn’t Joel. 

After a minute, she pulled away from you. 

“I get the feeling you’re not as into this as I am,” she said, panting a little. You opened your mouth to argue but she silenced you with a look. “If I misread things, I’m really sorry. But you should know that you don’t have to fuck me just because I’m trying to fuck you.” 

“You didn’t misread anything,” you said quickly. 

“Good,” she smiled a little. “But… It doesn’t seem like you’re feeling this.” 

You winced. 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you said. “But… I don’t think I’m feeling what you are.” 

“Well shit,” she laughed a little and rolled off you, lying flat on her back beside you. “I really am sorry if I came on too strong or did something you didn’t want…” 

You laughed a little. 

“Definitely not that,” you said. “Just have… other things on my mind. And you deserve someone’s full attention.”

She turned her head to look at you and you turned yours, too. 

“It’s Joel, isn’t it?” She asked. You winced a little. “Sorry, I’m not trying to dig into anything that’s not my business, it just… seemed like you guys split up a while ago so I thought it would be OK. I’m sorry.” 

“No, it probably should be,” you said. “It’s got nothing to do with you, trust me.” 

“Well,” she said. “At the risk of this being the most awkward hang out ever… want to help me get some raspberries?” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “I’d like that.” 

She smiled. 

“Good. Me too.” 

It was awkward for a bit, but by the time the two of you started back to Jackson, it was lighter. Easier. Like you’d never kissed at all. 

Julie walked with you back to the stables, not too long before you were expecting patrols that weren’t out overnight to return. 

“Even with everything today, I hope we can be friends,” she said. “I do actually like you. Not just because I’d like to fuck you.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, I’d like that, too,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not… in the same place on the fucking front…” 

“I’d rather pretend we never found that out,” she laughed a little. “Maintain some of the mystery. But, you know. If anything changes, it’s a small town. You know where to find me.” 

“That I do,” you said. 

She turned to leave but seemed to think better of it and turned back. 

“If he’s it for you?” She said. “I think you should figure out a way to make it work. No point in wanting something and acting like you can’t have it when it’s right there, you know? And yeah, it’s not really my business and yeah, I don’t know you all that well but… something tells me you’re not going to be feeling any different anytime soon. And I don’t think he is either. Just… my two cents.” 

She smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Thanks, Julie,” you said quietly. She gave your arm a squeeze. 

“See you around, Bambi.” 

You watched the door she left through for a few minutes after she was gone before you went back to work. 

The patrols all made it back without incident, Ellie returning her and Joel’s horses. She asked how things went but you just waved her off and she deflated a bit. 

“I keep trying to get some excitement around here,” she said. “You are no fucking help, you know that?” 

“I am so sorry my romantic life isn’t more entertaining,” you said wryly. “I’ll work on that. Entirely for your benefit, of course.” 

“Well you’re clearly not going to do it for your own.” 

You just rolled your eyes as she headed back home. You stayed late at the stables. Not for any real reason, you just didn’t want to be at home alone and going to the mess hall didn’t sound like what you wanted, either. You worked on the moose carving, pleasantly surprised at the progress you’d made on him. 

You ended up working on him until, almost suddenly, you realized he was done. Fully formed - or as close to it as you could get him - with four legs and jagged shapes for the antlers. But he looked like a moose, broad and steady and strong. You turned him over in your hand a few times, running your finger over the arch of his back and the curve of his neck. 

“What am I going to do with you?” You said quietly, holding it up in front of you, looking where his eyes would be if he had them. The bloodstain was still crimson on his chest. 

After a few minutes, you got up off the floor of the stable and did your final check for the evening before locking up behind you and heading home. 

You took the long way. 

It was dark but not so late that the Tipsy Bison had closed for the night, a warm glow coming from the windows. With the sun down, you were a little cold with bare arms but you didn’t mind. You walked slowly, watching the stars as you went. 

You stopped at the end of Joel’s walk. The lights were out. You thought he probably went to bed early - he got tired after a patrol - but he could be at the Bison, too. Either way… 

You all but crept up his walk, holding the moose tightly in your fingers. You stopped at the base of his stairs and held the rough-hewn animal in front of your face again. 

“Keep an eye on him for me?” You said quietly to the wood. It didn’t say anything back. You stepped as lightly as you could up the stairs but the same step as always squeaked below you. You set the moose on Joel’s doormat before turning to go, making the step squeak again. You made it almost all the way back up the walk when the lights inside turned on and you picked up the pace. 

It didn’t matter. You heard the front door open just as you turned onto the street and your eyes darted over toward him before you could help it. 

“Bambi?” He called, not too loud. He was in his blue cotton plaid sleep pants and a black t-shirt that hugged his body just right, tight across his shoulders and upper arms, highlighting the soft curve of his stomach. You stopped for a moment and just gave him a tight smile before continuing on home. 

When you went to bed, you found yourself looking at the spot on your nightstand where the moose had been before, part of you wishing he was still beside you.

***

“Hey. Hey Joel.” 

Joel smiled a little to himself. He recognized Ellie’s tone. 

“What’s up, kiddo?” 

“Wanna hear a joke about pizza?” 

He sighed, trying to sound annoyed. He wasn’t sure if it worked. 

“Get the feeling you’re gonna tell me either way.” 

“Eh, never mind,” Ellie said, sounding a little put out. Joel looked back at her, frowning slightly. And then she smirked. “It’s too cheesy.” 

Joel groaned. 

“That one’s bad, baby girl.” 

“No it’s not!” She rode up alongside him even though the trail wasn’t really wide enough for that. “That was a good one!” 

“Nope,” he shook his head. “It was terrible, three out of 10.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“What would you give it?” He asked, brows raised. “Because I’m questioning your judgement here…” 

“At least a six.” 

“No.” 

“Yes!” She laughed. “You’ve just got shitty taste, old man.” 

“Uh huh,” he laughed. “And what’s that say about you then, hm?” 

“Broken clock is right twice a day,” she replied. “You were bound to accidentally do OK every now and then. Will Livingston, however, is right every time.” 

“You got that entire book memorized?” He teased lightly. “If not, you gotta be close…” 

“I’m getting there,” she said. “Saving the best for last.” 

Joel just shook his head a little. 

He loved patrolling with Ellie. Even more than he thought he would. It was so much like when he’d first come to know her and care for her. It was a time, he realized now, that made him understand that he could still love. That he had it within himself to care for another person, that he could cope with the fear of loss that came with attachment because Ellie was worth it. He liked spending the time just the two of them and getting to know her better as the young woman she was becoming instead of the little girl he’d come to know years earlier. She’d grown so much, come into her own in a way that was only possible in a place like Jackson. She had friends and hobbies and had become part of the community there. Every day with her was reassurance that he’d done the right thing. That every life he’d taken that day in the hospital was a worthy price to pay. 

Joel had left Jackson with Ellie plenty before patrolling with her, back when she was still speaking to him. Before she found out the truth of everything. He’d loved it then, too. But this was different. She was still his baby girl but they were out here as partners, working together to protect the community they both loved. It was a glimpse of the future they had, one where their lives moved along side by side and he got to watch her find her place and fall in love and have a family of her own and just be happy as herself. 

They were only a day out from Jackson now, heading in from a three day long patrol. It was Ellie’s first overnight patrol and she’d been so excited for it, even as she tried to pretend like she wasn’t. The days before they left town, Ellie was over at his house every night, going over the list of what she should bring and looking over the map. She’d lit up when he said they could bring a guitar, something else that made Joel smile. 

It had been more than a month since she’d gotten him back into playing, showing up at his house with a guitar and saying she wanted his opinion on something. She played American Girl, one of his favorites, and set the guitar down when she was done. 

“That was amazing, baby girl,” he’d said, more than a little in awe of her. “Where did you learn that?” 

“Bambi,” she replied. “But do you think it’d sound better with two? I feel like it would. But you’re the musician so…” 

It was an obvious ploy but it made him smile a little. The idea that Ellie would do that much to make him play again. That you’d help her. 

“It might,” he said, getting up to get his instrument. “Let’s give it a try.” 

Joel tried to not think of you too much. He usually failed. But he was getting better at not drowning in the memories of you, of not letting the loss of you consume him. 

It helped that he’d found a way to care for you while respecting the distance you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to just abandon you, not when he had a sense of how much you were hurting. So he brought you food. Selfishly, it served two purposes. It meant you were, hopefully, eating something. But it also meant he knew that you were still alive. That he could leave a box on your porch, walk by a few hours later, and see that it was gone. He could check on you without forcing you to talk to him and that eased the steady drumbeat of worry inside him. 

When he heard you were back at the stables, he shifted from things you needed to things you would want. He brought you the things he found that made him think of you, things he’d have given you when he came home to you in another life. 

It also helped that he knew you thought of him, too. At least occasionally, enough that you’d left the carving you’d made on his porch a few weeks before. He thought he was hearing things when the first squeak woke him up from his place on the couch, but then the step squeaked a second time and he was sure he heard it. He’d thought it might be Ellie, needing something but  not necessarily wanting to say it. He hadn’t expected to see you heading down the street, the first glimpse of you he’d had in so long. Your arm was out of the cast and you looked good. A bit thinner than you’d been the last time he’d seen you but still good. Still beautiful, still soft with sharp edges. Still what he wanted to sink into and wrap himself up in every chance he got. He picked the moose up and brought it inside, tracing the outline of its frame for a moment. You’d finished it. It was rough, you were clearly a beginner, but you’d finished it and given it to him. His thumb brushed the wound on its heart, where you’d bled. Before he really thought better of it, he brought the figure to his lips and kissed it gently before setting it on the side table and turning out the lights. 

The two of you were set to leave Jackson again in just a week, another gap in the patrol schedule that you could leverage to search for Savvy now that you were healed. He hoped this search led somewhere. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, living like that, not knowing what happened to your child. The closest he’d come was the torturous time that Ellie was with the monsters who’d taken her in Silver Lake. He was so frantic, so terrified of what he’d find but even more terrified of never finding it to begin with. He needed to save her, protect her. But if he couldn’t do that, he needed to know what happened to her. He needed to know who to destroy before he destroyed himself for letting it happen. Living in that for years would be unbearable. 

“Hey Joel?” 

He could hear the frown in her voice. 

“Yeah Baby Girl?” He looked over his shoulder, Ellie and Shimmer falling behind him again now that the trail had narrowed further. She stopped and so did he.

“That’s something we should be watching for, right?” She nodded toward something off the trail, a small frown on her face. Joel followed where she was looking and he froze in his saddle. 

It took an eagle eye to spot it, just brush amongst brush, but it shocked him when he saw it. The gentle arch of a sapling, stretching down toward the ground, held there with rope. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It is. Stay with the horses.” 

“But…” 

“Just one second,” he said, dismounting and going for the trap, trying desperately not to get his hopes up but his heart was racing. It was a common set up for a trap. It could be anyone’s.

This trap was far fresher than the one he’d found with you, the dirt where the pin and been put in the ground still disturbed. The trap itself was still baited and the pins were smooth, almost artistically carved. It hadn’t been here long. He looked around quickly, looking for some indication of where the person who set this trap might have gone. It took some doing - whoever it was covered their tracks well - but he found it, the edge of a boot print. 

He went back to his horse and mounted up. 

“Ellie,” he said, voice serious. “Need you to listen to me, OK?” 

“OK,” she frowned. “Joel, you’re acting weird…” 

“We’re gonna track someone,” he said. “But when we find them, need you to not shoot them until we talk to them, OK? And… and if its a teenaged girl, need you to not shoot them even if she pulls a gun on me, OK?” 

“A teenaged… Joel, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Just trust me,” he said. “Please.” 

He started with the boot print and found little hints of someone moving through the brush from there. Disturbed leaves, a splotch of dirt that looked misplaced, a small branch that had snagged on another when something about human height passed below it. 

“Joel,” Ellie said after they’d been tracking for about 20 minutes. 

“Still looking,” he said gently. “It’s OK…” 

He heard something rustle down low up ahead and he adjusted Ares’ path to check on it. He didn’t need to go far, the source of the sound only about 100 feet away and next to a large rock. Standing there, beside to a large horse and a large dog, was a girl. She was a little taller than Ellie, with gangly arms and legs, a rifle held high in her hands. 

“Stop right there!” She said, her voice sharp with a familiar southern twang. The dog moved in front of her, getting down low and bearing its teeth. “Don’t wanna shoot you but I will. You can move right along, this spot’s taken.” 

Joel lifted his hands and caught a glimpse of Ellie raising a gun next to him. 

“Ellie!” He said sharply. She looked at him, eyes wide. “Gun down. Now.” 

“But…” 

“Now.” 

She huffed but lowered the gun slowly, her eyes back on the girl in front of her. 

“Won’t shoot you in the back,” the girl said. “Just turn around and go.” 

Joel fought to focus. The girl in front of him… she looked like Sarah, so so much like Sarah. The same shock of curly hair, same brown skin, same bright eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were sisters. He fought to stay here, in the forest with Ellie, not getting swallowed by his own memories. He’d found her. He was all but certain of that now, he’d found her and he was going to bring her back to you. 

“You out here on your own?” He asked gently, his hands said up. 

“Don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” she said sharply. “All that matters to you is that I will kill you, don’t try me.” 

“I understand,” he said. “Not going to hurt you…” 

“Bullshit.” 

“We’re not,” Ellie snapped. 

“Ellie.” 

“What!” She said. “Joel, I swear, if she shoots you…” 

“Remember what I said,” he replied. 

“But…” 

“I mean it,” he cut her off. “Don’t, OK?” 

He turned back to the girl. 

“Not going to hurt you,” he said again. “Just… just hear me out for just a second, OK? We’re from a settlement, about a day’s ride from here…” 

“Good for you,” she said. “Better head that way then.” 

“It’s a good place,” he said, ignoring her. “With good people. Including… including your mama, I think.” 

Her eyes went a little wide and she lowered the gun ever so slightly. He caught a glimpse of Ellie’s head whipping around to look at him but he kept his eyes on the girl. 

“Your name’s Savannah, right?” He pressed on. “Your mom, she calls you Savvy, right?” 

She raised the gun again. 

“How’d you know that,” snapped. “You one of the assholes that took her? That it? What, you kill her? Get her to tell you about me first? That what happened?” 

“No honey,” Joel said, his throat tight. He’d found her, he’d found your daughter. “No, she… she escaped them, few years back. She got hurt real bad doin’ it, we brought her in, got her fixed up and she stayed. She’s been looking for you but she’s still there…” 

“Why should I trust you?” She snapped. “Why should I believe a damn thing you say?” 

“Because I know her,” he said. “Been helping her look for you. She’s… I know her. She trains horses, guessin’ she trained the one you’ve got? She trained the one I’m on, too. She runs our stable for us, she…” 

“Bambi?” Ellie gaped at him. “Bambi’s her mom? Bambi has…” 

“Ellie,” Joel said again, cutting her off and looking back at Savvy. 

“She’s there,” he said. “She misses you, she misses you so much. Told me how you liked to read to the horses when you were little. How the dogs liked you better than her. How you’re real good at carving… Recognized your trap, found another one of yours a few months back. She told me how your pins are always smooth and even… Let us take you back with us. Won’t take your guns, just… just come back with us. Please. She misses you so much, she’s been so worried…” 

“We’re not people to be afraid of,” Ellie said and Joel glanced her way. She was looking at Savvy now, her face serious. “Well, as long as you’re not an asshole. I know Joel seems scary but he’s not. Promise. He’s safe.” 

She lowered the gun slowly, looking between the two of them before looking down at the dog. 

“Gattling,” she said. “Heel.” 

The dog dropped its defensive stance and went alongside her, looking up and waiting for a command. She looked back at Joel and Ellie. 

“You really know my mom?” She asked quietly. “She’s… she’s really alive?” 

“She is,” Joel nodded, lowering his hands to the saddle horn. There was a knot in his throat. “And we can take you to her. Please.” 

She hesitated for a moment. 

“She teaches me stuff about music,” Ellie said quickly. “How to play some stuff on guitar, too, but more about music in general. She’s cool. Really. I’m… I’m sure she wants to see you again. And Jackson’s nice. And so are we. Just come along, OK?” 

She took a deep breath, looking down at the dog for a moment, adjusting her grip on the rifle. 

“OK.” 

***

“She’s in rare fucking form this week,” Olivia said, watching as you steadied Persephone, one of the fillies you were working with. 

“She’s just got an independent streak,” you said, the horse’s feet stomping impatiently in the dirt. “That’s OK. I get that. So do the best of us, right?” 

She huffed and jerked her large head. You smiled a little. 

“You’re sure she’s not gonna throw you?” Olivia asked, sounding a little worried. 

“No,” you shrugged. “But I’ve gotten thrown off horses before, nothin’ new. Only way to break her is to break her, no point in stalling. You in a good spot?” 

“Think so,” she said, stepping a little further back from the horse as you got ready to mount her. 

“Then let’s go,” you said, all but jumping onto Persephone’s back. You barely got your foot in the stirrups before she started really bucking, Olivia moving even further away. You clutched the reins in one hand and let your hips go loose, digging your heels down toward the earth to stay seated. You let your body move with her as she hurled herself through the air, desperate to dislodge you. But you weren’t going anywhere. She gave you a good shake that made you grab the back of the saddle but otherwise, she didn’t get anywhere close to throwing you. After a while, she started to calm, her movements still sharp and harsh but closer to the earth, her hooves staying on the ground more often than not. Eventually, she mostly stilled, just tossing her head and huffing indignantly. 

“See?” You said soothingly, reaching forward to pat her neck. “That’s my good girl, you did so well…” 

“Bambi,” Olivia said, catching your eye. She nodded toward the gate to the paddock and you frowned a little before you followed her gaze. 

Standing there was Joel and Ellie, their reins in their hands. But between them was a girl. She was young, a teenager, with springy curls and brown skin and wide, soft eyes. 

You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes and that hair and that skin. For a moment, the world shrank to a small point centered on her and you wondered if, maybe, you’d finally lost your mind. If something had finally broken so thoroughly that you were seeing things. 

But you weren’t. She was here. Your daughter was alive and she was here, in Jackson. 

“Savvy,” you breathed and Persephone bucked below you. You weren’t paying attention to the horse and you flew off her back and into the dirt, landing with a brain rattling thud. You didn’t care. 

You scrambled to your feet, throwing a glance back at Olivia to make sure she had Persephone so Savvy wouldn’t get hurt, and ran for her. 

“Mom,” she said, her voice thick as you reached her and pulled her into yourself. You clutched her to your chest until you thought you could feel her heartbeat alongside yours, clinging to her too close to even kiss her or look at her but you needed to feel the life in her first, soak up the vitality of her before someone took it away. 

“You’re alive,” you managed, voice thick. You buried your nose and mouth in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re alive, you’re here, you’re OK, you’re…” 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said wetly and you pulled back from her just enough to look at her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed as you took her face in your hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, I thought you were gone, I…” 

“I’m so sorry baby,” you kissed her forehead before pulling her against you again and clinging to her. “I’m so sorry I let you go, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” 

“It’s OK Mom,” she said, her hands holding your elbows. “I’m OK, it’s OK, I promise…” 

You just held on to her, trying to memorize everything about her that you could. That she was taller now, that her shape had changed, that it seemed like she hadn’t had a chance to really grow into her limbs yet. 

You looked up at Joel who was still there, his eyes wet, watching you hold your daughter. 

“You found her,” you said softly. 

He just nodded. 

“Found her,” he said. “Couldn’t have without you, though. With everything you told me about her, was able to find her.”

You just nodded, running your hand down the back of her head as you held her. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, holding her so tight that you were worried you might hurt her but too afraid that she’d slip away to stop. “Thank you.”  

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH SAVVY'S HERE!!!!

And Joel found her. I'm so happy that Bambi has her baby back, for real. Things are getting there. I promise.

Thanks so much for reading and sticking with this story! Don't forget that you can get updates on my updates blog here.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 28 - A man of justice

This is a sequel to Beetober 2024 Day 1 - Raise a toast and you should really read that one first.

When Hizashi gets back to their apartment, he’s vibrating, as if his quirk is located everywhere in his body and not just in his throat. He tightens his grip on the—too thick—folder in his hand and Shouta better be home right now, because Hizashi fears that if he opens his mouth, if he so much as makes a single sound, he’s going to level the entire block.

Hizashi doesn’t bother taking off his shoes or jacket, his only goal finding Shouta as quickly as possible and some of the tension flows out of him when he sees his dark hair over the back of the couch.

He marches up there, stepping into his line of sight and as soon as Shouta’s gaze falls on him, he activates his quirk. There really is something to be said about being married for over ten years and having known each other for almost sixteen, Hizashi thinks as he slams the folder down on the table.

“Whoever is responsible for this, I want all of them dead,” he says, secure in the knowledge that Shouta has his quirk handled for now but his statement makes him blink in surprise and immediately that thrumming feeling is back.

Hizashi takes a deep breath to center himself.

“We generally frown upon murder in this household,” Shouta carefully says, eying the folder with newfound interest.

“Not any longer, we don’t,” Hizashi presses out, careful to not let his quirk slip and now real worry etches itself into Shouta’s face.

“What’s going on?”

Hizashi sees his fingers twitch, clearly desperate to tug the folder close and see what has Hizashi all murderous but instead of doing that, Shouta continues to look up at him, giving him the chance to explain and Hizashi loves him a whole lot.

“This,” Hizashi points at the certifiable book on their table, “is Hitoshi’s file. The real one, not the watered down version we got.”

His voice is scathing and Hizashi thinks if he could change his quirk’s output, the soundwaves would come out thin and sharp, like knifes, cutting through everything.

“What the fuck,” Shouta mutters, tugging the folder closer to himself. “What do you mean this is his real file?”

“It means that this is a detailed documentary of all the shit Hitoshi went through,” Hizashi snaps out and he trembles in anger when he remembers some of the things he read.

“How did you get this?” Shouta asks, clearly hesitant to open the folder and Hizashi commends him on his good instincts because reading about all of this had made his stomach turn in the most violent ways and he’s going to smother Hitoshi in even more love from now on.

The kiddo deserves it and then some.

“I know CPS hates you but you forget that they adore me,” Hizashi tells him, tapping his foot because all this restless anger in him needs somewhere to go if it can’t come out of his throat.

It’s not even a lie; Shouta works often with the CPS due to his underground work but it’s never pleasant for the CPS because Shouta is a hardass and he doesn’t much care for the proper procedures. His only concern is always the child and the CPS hates him for it.

Hizashi on the other hand is very outspoken about his own experiences in the system and he’s always calling for more funding for the CPS, for better work conditions, pointing out the good they do. It’s not always true, Hizashi knows that, but as long as the CPS remains to be chronically understaffed and bogged down with—sometimes unnecessary—paperwork he can’t expect them to do better.

He has run many a fundraiser for them and he’s on friendly terms with more than a few workers there. It was almost easy, calling in a few favours to get this file.

“How can it be this thick?”

“It’s because it’s all there, are you not listening to me?” Hizashi almost shouts and Shouta glares at him.

“Keep it down, Hitoshi is home,” he chastises him but the only thing that accomplishes is that now Hizashi wants to run off and hug Hitoshi and never let him go again. “Explain.”

Hizashi takes a deep breath, trying to center himself so he can talk for more than two sentences without losing it.

“It’s this thick because it’s a detailed account of everything that happened to Hitoshi. And I mean everything. It’s all there; police reports, injury reports from several hospitals and doctors, witness reports from teacher, neighbours, random bystanders on the street, the police, nurses, doctors and even some CPS workers.”

Shouta’s gaze drops towards the folder again, a frown on his face.

“If it’s all there, then how come no one has ever done anything?” he asks and Hizashi gives him his most feral grin.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he demands to know and he can already see the gears in Shouta’s head turning.

With this many reports there are not many options as to who could keep something like this under wraps and they are going to find whoever is responsible for this.

Shouta finally reaches for the folder and flips through it; his jaw gets tighter with every page he flips and when he goes pale Hizashi knows he’s reached the medical part of the file.

It’s gruesome, considering the list of injuries Hitoshi has acquired over the years and Hizashi feels sick all over again.

“It was all swept under the rug?”

“Must have, because no one ever did anything, now, did they?”

Shouta continues to flip through the file, his eyes flying over the pages.

“He went through an awful lot of social workers,” he finally notes and Hizashi nods, because he noticed that, too.

And it tells him that someone has definitely tried to keep all of this hidden.

He’s not sure why, because what could someone possibly get from submitting a child to this kind of suffering, but there’s undisputable evidence that someone did.

And Hizashi is going to kill them.

“There’s no mention of All Might in this,” Shouta finally says as he flips the last page and that, too, is something Hizashi had noticed with mounting rage.

“Yeah, you’d think a man of justice like himself would report it if a terrified kid came to him to ask for help, right?” Hizashi mockingly says because they both know how that particular incident ended and Hizashi has to fight the urge to go and scream at the other hero some more.

“You want him dead, too?” Shouta asks and there’s no real judgement in his voice so Hizashi immediately nods.

“Preferably,” he seethes. “He’s not fit to be the number one, not if he treats civilians—kids—like this. Nezu should have exposed him.”

“And then what?” Shouta asks and Hizashi already hates what he’s going to say next because he just knows it’s going to be rational and true and everything Hizashi doesn’t want to hear right now. “You want Endeavor to be number one? Have you seen Todoroki? You saw how he refused to use his fire for the longest time. You’ve seen the burn mark on his face. You think it’s a coincident?”

Hizashi presses his lips together because he doesn’t but Shouta is merciless.

“Did you know that Endeavor’s oldest son supposedly died in a fire?”

“What?” Hizashi almost shrieks out because he did in fact not know this but now it makes the rage under his skin burn even brighter.

“Hawks is basically a child soldier and he’s under the HPSC’s thumb, even though he tries to not let anyone know that. You want him to take the spot?”

And now here is a sobering thought, Hizashi thinks, as he goes ice-cold in sudden understanding.

“The HPSC,” he whispers because of course.

Of course.

Confusion mars Shouta’s face for a moment before his expression goes slack and Hizashi can see a fire burning in his eyes.

“Hitoshi does have a very useful, valuable quirk,” he mutters and Hizashi nods.

“And it’s so much easier to snatch a kid up when his will has already been broken and he’s desperate,” Hizashi adds because the HPSC has always been shady and they’ve harboured their suspicions against them for a while now.

“Well, it’s time to do some investigating,” Shouta decides after a long pause and he tugs the folder closer to himself. “Mind if I work my way through them?”

Hizashi shakes his head; Shouta is not going to be a violent as Hizashi would want him to be, because for all that Shouta works closely with the darker side of things, he does care about proper procedures when it comes to being thorough, but it’s probably for the best.

Hizashi would hate it if Hitoshi and Shouta would have to visit him in Tartarus.

~*~*~

It takes Hitoshi almost no time at all to pick up on the tense atmosphere in the apartment and when it becomes clear that he’s not going to ask, Hizashi and Shouta sit him down on the third day. They don’t have any real results to show him yet, but it’s obvious they need to explain some things at least.

Hitoshi is tense and he’s clearly been sleeping worse and Hizashi hates to see him flinch when he reaches out for him, so a talk it is.

“You’ve picked up on our mood,” Hizashi says, not sugarcoating anything and not easing Hitoshi into it, either.

They’ve learned that being straightforward with him is the way to go, after all.

“Yeah,” Hitoshi mutters, ducking in on himself as if it’s his fault, as if they are going to lash out at him any moment now and Hizashi’s heart breaks in his chest.

Shouta hasn’t gotten very far in his investigation yet, but he did manage to find one of the teachers who submitted not one but six reports and it turns out the teacher had been forcibly transferred to another school mere days after the last one.

According to Shouta she’d cried in relief at hearing that Hitoshi finally has a good placement and she’s expressed a wish to see him again though Shouta had kept her hanging about that, since they first needed to talk to Hitoshi about it.

It’s not much to go on yet, but she had confirmed that the transfer came out of nowhere and that the headmaster at the time had seem twitchy. Nervous, almost and that’s something Shouta is looking into further now.

“I’m sorry if I did anything wrong,” Hitoshi tacks on when they stay quiet for a beat too long and now this is unacceptable.

Hitoshi hasn’t done a thing wrong in his life ever and Hizashi is not going to let him believe that for a moment longer.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, kiddo,” he gently says and goes to sit next to Hitoshi.

“We got our hands on your file,” Shouta now chimes in and it only makes Hitoshi curl in further.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“No, it’s—Hitoshi, all of the reports are in there. Everything was documented because the people you told that you needed help reported it, all of them. One of your teachers filed six different abuse reports before she was forcefully transferred out of your school,” Hizashi immediately tells him because he doesn’t want the kid to worry about this a second longer.

“What?” Hitoshi breathes out and his voice wobbles. “Then why did nothing ever happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Hizashi reassures him, but he must not have himself as well under control as he thought, because Hitoshi almost shrinks away from him, clearly picking up on the still thrumming anger in Hizashi.

It’s been hard to get rid of, ever since he was handed that file.

“Kid, we’re angry on your behalf. You should have gotten help years ago and someone made sure that you wouldn’t. We’re furious,” Shouta explains, “but not with you. We’re furious for you.”

It seems to take Hitoshi a moment to digest that.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?” he then asks and Hizashi can’t help but to pull him into a hug because their son is so smart.

“We do, but we shouldn’t talk about it, not without proof. It could get us all into trouble if we’re not smart about this.”

“Then why do this? Why risk that?” Hitoshi demands to know and Hizashi can’t help but to stare at him.

“Because someone made sure you couldn’t get help. Someone made sure that you couldn’t get out of your situation and that’s not acceptable.”

“But if you could get into trouble for it, then you shouldn’t poke your nose into it,” Hitoshi insists. “Why do that for me?”

“Because you’re our son and someone made sure you were hurting,” Shouta matter-of-factly says and it’s the first time they called Hitoshi that, which might not be the best moment, but it’s out there now and Hizashi gently cards a hand through Hitoshi’s hair.

“And we’re not going to let that slide,” Hizashi adds, not commenting on the wet shine on Hitoshi’s eyes.

“But regarding that—have you ever been accosted by someone? Did someone ever approach you with an offer of any kind? Did an interaction like that ever stand out to you?” Shouta asks and Hizashi makes sure to keep a close eye on Hitoshi, so he sees the moment he remembers something.

“There was once,” he slowly says, clearly trying to recall the moment. “I was out with my foster father and my social worker at the time; she was doing her monthly check-in and we met her at a café cause the house wasn’t—fit for company,” Hitoshi says with a wince. “A guy with a suit approached us at one point. I’m not sure what they were talking about, I was six or maybe seven at that time, but my foster father seemed excited and promised to keep in touch, I remember that. I was moved to a different home shortly after and my social worker made me promise to never talk to people in black suits ever again. I—never saw her again after that,” Hitoshi finishes with a frown and Shouta gets up to get the folder.

He quickly flips through the pages until he obviously finds what he’s looking for.

“Is this her?” he then asks and holds out a paper for Hitoshi, the picture of a haggard looking woman at the top left.

“Yeah.”

Hizashi commits the face to memory, because at least this woman tried her best to protect their son.

“Did anyone try after that?” Shouta asks, putting the page back.

“No, not that I can remember,” Hitoshi tells them and that’s kind of strange, too.

The HPSC is not known for giving up easily and the reports have continued to be swept under the rug after that, still, so they must have had a plan.

“I’m guessing All Might didn’t make a report?” Hitoshi lightly asks, as if it doesn’t matter to him at all and Hizashi abruptly gets up, pacing the length of the room, all under Shouta’s watchful and Hitoshi’s wary eyes.

“No, he did not,” Shouta confirms once he’s certain that Hizashi has no intention of opening his mouth and Hitoshi frowns.

“You’re still upset about that,” he notes, his eyes on Hizashi and it’s laughable because Hizashi is not upset, he’s goddamn incandescently furious, and he tries to convey as much with his eyes, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak right now.

“Of course he is, Hitoshi. We both are. All Might could have helped you but he didn’t. Not only that but he also shattered your trust in heroes. Of course we’re upset about that.”

“Like you have been about all of this,” Hitoshi mutters, his eyes falling to the folder. “You’re upset on my behalf because I got hurt and no one ever helped me,” he whispers out and when Hizashi nods he starts to cry.

Which is one way to make the anger fizzle out and a second later Hizashi is at his side, pulling him into a hug and slightly swaying them.

“Of course we are,” Hizashi mutters. “We never want to see you hurt.”

“I didn’t dare to trust this,” Hitoshi admits into Hizashi’s chest and even though it makes Hizashi’s heart squeeze in his chest, they’ve known this of course.

Hitoshi might have been more open with them but he was still wary, still so very careful, still prone to flinching and hiding himself away and avoiding questions at all costs.

It will still take some time before Hitoshi will fully trust them, but maybe this can help him. Maybe being open about this was the right way to go.

Hizashi shares a look with Shouta over Hitoshi’s head and he sees the same thoughts reflected in his eyes. And he sees the same protectiveness burn in them as well.

It seems pretty obvious that the HPSC tried to get their hands on Hitoshi and they are going to find out why.

And then they are going to destroy them.

If you think I have any idea what's going on here or where this is going, then I must disappoint you. I have no clue what happened in this fic, the HPSC idea came to me literally on the line I needed it to and at the beginning of it all I had no intention to ever write a sequel to Raise a toast in the first place. Please don't hold out hope that there's going to be any kind of solution to this, because there might not be, or there might come one to me during the next shower, who even fucking knows anymore.

[bisexualmcqueen]

May i offer for the salqueen babies au...

The one kid that isnt hyper crazy like lightning is crazy like sally. Seems tame and normal but *nothing is getting past them.* that child is staring up at you like 👁👁 and making lawyerly arguments at the age of 4.

EXACTLY several of them would be in debate club but. here hangon im tired i have one idea so far about the school situation (at least when theyre younger, we havent aged them past like 13 at most yet bc the canon timeline doesnt even go that far)

gotta make teacher ocs maybe^ new RS residents W?

and we dont have all their personalities worked out yet but heres some veeery loose notes:

(juice may be the hypertyped one actually. she wound up with drag car genes for some un-fuckingknown reason <lightning's genetics are a mysterious mystery and to boot there's only One of him On Earth. <which is a plot point)

lightning is an anxious reactive metal horse with OCD so sorry kiddos

^scared of mater <ive been waiting for any excuse to post these scs

there's also some fun stuff in the tiktok socmed "fic" wip i have that pokes fun at sally also being a fucking weirdo (the Cones to people with 0 context has got to be pretty funny). (the kids secretly run a tiktok account and the comment section gaffs about calling cps sometimes idk how to explain it? like radiator springs is filmed in such a way that the audience is partly convinced their entire family is made of serial killers/the mafia when in reality the kids are very well off and are just making silly posts about their family).

[jay shuster, 2004, art of cars] ^inside of sally's brain /hj

ANYWAYS this sounds exactly like the NASA kid who is convinced she can get to space. (she probably will wind up as an astrophysicist at the least.)

[callmewrinkles3]

Hi kiddos. Alex here. I know nobody asked for this but goddamn, I just needed to get it out of my chest and out of my head because today has been bad.

Nobody wants another sad story but there it goes. I was never a sports person until my best friend made me sit in front of our TV to watch twenty guys go around in circles driving fast cars. She spent her childhood watching Fernando race, so I just sat there without understanding shit. We were in deep shit in every single possible way, so I didn't complain about it because she was happy to do it.

It was the worst summer of our lives for too many reasons, but we spent those weekends watching YouTube videos about F1 to cheer ourselves up. It was really really really bad, but for a while that made it better. I can even point to the exact two moments I fell in love with Dan during those days. The first episode of DTS when he says he is a mechanic and the McL*ren snacks video where he had the goddamn Let's fuck ring. It was instant love. That was the moment my brain yelled "Yup, that's my guy". I also remember the first time I saw him. It was during the Hungary GP red flag after Valtteri destroyed everything that moved. I saw Dan standing beside the car looking at the damage and I remember thinking “Goddamn” because it was a mess.

I went from not being a sports fan to absolutely getting obsessed with it and with him. I remember Monza weekend like it was yesterday, grabbing my bestie’s hand after the sprint and saying “NO BUT YOU DONT GET IT” because he wasn’t going to start P3 but P2. I used part of our savings to get that pink shirt because it meant the world that weekend. I used part of my salary to buy an old school yellow Renault Dan shirt with my first job after not working for months thanks to covid. We were the most irresponsible people ever and we spent all our savings buying tickets to the race here in Barcelona the next year because it became my dream to actually see Dan racing in front of me. It was worth every single cent because it was a privilege to see him racing not once but twice.

The thing is, that curly Aussie man brought me the biggest smile on the worst days. He put a smile on my face when probably nothing else could. He gave me some of my biggest happy moments and some of the worst headaches and heartbreaks of the last four years. He even got me the motivation to write again after centuries of not doing it even when I love it probably more than anything else. He gave me my friends because I would never have met them if it wasn’t for our mutual love for him.

Dan is magically was the reason why @honeybadgercomeback appeared at the exact time I needed them the most. Heaven knows this needs a special mention because holyshit I love Ciara so much it's ridiculous. They stood by my side and listened to me cry for hours and stayed there when anxiety kicked me in the ass. They decided to write a whole story with me and create an entire world out of it. It's my pride and joy to do it. They even opened the doors of her family and home when I was about to explode and there aren't enough words to thank you. They're really the Blake to my Dan and heaven knows nobody will ever do it like we do. We have planned the whole thing to watch Austin together at my place next month, and even today they stood by my side when I said I couldn't watch it if Dan's not there. If that's not love then I don't know, kids.

It breaks my heart. I can't explain how badly I cried today about all this mess. The way the press and his own teams have treated him over the last couple of years is unfair. To see him leave like this is unfair. I absolutely hate it, but this is so incredibly unfair and wrong that I just reached the point where I found myself actually saying to myself that I just hope he retires and gets home to his family. I just reached the point where I’m exhausted by the sport I love so much and goddamn I’m not even planning to watch the rest of the races if he is not there. To see him crying in the media pen broke my heart, and I can't. Even then I truly hope this is not the last one. I just want to see him in Austin again. I really want him to have the farewell he deserves.

All this to say goddamn, how I love Daniel. I'm thankful for the last four years of love I got from seeing that lanky man on my TV doing what he loves. He means more to me than I could ever say. I love him more than words can express. He'll always be my guy. He'll always be my baby. God, I would go to the end of the world and to war for that man. Whatever happens next I just hope he is at peace after all this mess, because after fourteen years he bloody deserves it.

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart my VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict Joel x Reader story snippet (preview) ❤️‍🔥

Hey!! You guys voted on which WIP you wanted a snippet from and you voted for this one: Violent Heart my VERY DARK no apocalypse slowburn Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict!Joel x Reader fic!! (Who likes the header I made???? thoughts??? thots???)

Part 1 of the story snippet // Part 2 of the story snippet // header/mood board with original image credits (please read all warnings for each part!)

Context for this snippet: Joel is Y/N's new stepfather and they're sitting on the couch talking. Y/N is a child (about 8).

WARNINGS: afab!you, mention of sarah dying, cancer mention, joel tears, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, please use your best judgement and take care of yourself!!

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold. 

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter. Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now. 

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life? 

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry. 

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.  

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists. 

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back...

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down. 

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs. 

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist. 

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t. 

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell. 

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

[hughiecampbelle]

Baby Roy Becoming A Singer Would Include:

Requested: i know you’ve been having a rough time lately, so get to this whenever you can!!! no worries or rush my dear ❤️❤️ i’ve been thinking about your version of baby!roy and how much i love them, but what if they never joined the waystar company? like the version of baby!roy that lives in my head never joined in & instead became a very sad and angry indie singer who used their music as a way to vent out their anger lol. idk i just think the idea of the youngest roy kid being an edgy little indie singer all the gay teens run to is funny & cute to me - anon

A/N: I know this wasn't a request but omg the more I kept thinking about it, the more I fell in love!!!! I hope you don't mind!!! I love this Baby Roy with my whole entire heart!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist

You're a classically trained musician. Not just with your voice, but piano, violin, cello, and flute. If you were going to be interested in music, it was going to be Logan's way

He made you play every party, every gala, putting the money he invested to work. It was your party trick. You could play some of the toughest pieces of music with your eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back, but this wasn't your type of music. You liked it more indie, more grungey and grimey

You had band posters all over your walls, records and CDs and all your storage on your computer filled up by songs. You had a notebook you were constantly writing in for song lyrics

"What a cute diary!"

"Fuck off Rome."

Instead of sneaking out to go to parties or see partners, which you do too, you mostly snuck out to go to concerts. You bought the tickets without anyone knowing, seeing your favorite artists

All your clothes were band shirts from said concerts

You definitely have your hair dyed with tons of piercings, all of them diy just to spite your father. You got into it when you were a young tween and it just escalated from there

"Is that a tongue piercing?"

"Don't say anything, Shiv, please."

You always have your headphones on playing as loud as it can. Your father hates it. He's stopped telling you to take them off during mealtimes, but it used to be one of his biggest triggers

Your fights were brutal. Where Connor tried to disappear and Rome shrank, you only grew more fiery, more stubborn and passionate. Kendall and Shiv knew it would get you into deep trouble. Ever since you were little you'd decided every battle was a good enough one of to pick. It was like having two Logan's in the room

You sing often, all the time. You have a beautiful voice. Logan has even called it angelic, ever since you could sing you have been

But you use to to scream and sing all these horrible songs he would never let you listen to if he had that power. He calls it a waste of talent, you a waste of talent

When you're home alone, the place shakes from the speakers, your music playing so loud. Then you really feel like yourself, like you can belt it out

You start your own band when you're a teenager. You find the equally gifted musicians stunted by their parents and make your own beautiful music

The bands name changes so often, but eventually you find one both catchy and to the point

You have an artist friend make t-shirts for all of you and then a few extra, knowing Connor will proudly show it off

"This is amazing, kiddo. You should be really proud."

You use one of your fathers many garages, moving the car out for practice. It's angry and sad and your drummer wears too much eyeliner and your bassist needs a haircut, but you sound good. Really good

You get the word out at school talent shows and battle of the bands and play at people's parties basically for free. It's all about exposure

You become pretty popular. Everyone knows you for your music, not for your name or blood or even your siblings who went to the same school. It feels good, really good

When you're not practicing in the garage late into the night or playing at parties, you're singing at open mics and trying to get out there

Years you spend lugging your equipment and instruments and playing for a bunch of drunk teenagers/college students. It's what you love, even if Logan outwardly disapproves of it

Finally someone picks up on your sound, someone in the business, and it gets your career started

You get a manager and a record deal and suddenly you have tons of fans. Your social medias have never had so many followers, Connor being the first follower for all of them

Your shows are massive. Your fans love you, adore you, and you're sent in huge amounts of letters and art

You open for some of your favorite artists, artists you've looked up forever

You become a household name under a stage name, though everyone knows you're really a Roy. It can't not come up

As far as Logan's concerned, he only has four children. Because you're not fighting for his affections like the others, you don't really matter to him. Connor tries to make up for it, but it's not the same

When you sign up to go on tour you don't tell them, instead going out one day and not coming back for a few weeks/months. It's not like they'd notice

All of this hurt and anger is just fuel for your career, your songs

It's silly, to still want his approval, but you thought the fame and recognition would spark some sort of respect or love or something, but it doesn't. As far as Logan's concerned, your silly music is just a waste of time. It's a hobby, nothing more

You definitely have a song called Fuck Logan Roy. You have songs dedicated to all your siblings. Fall of Rome. Daddy's Favorite. Big Brother Always Watching. Sister, Sister. Even a few about Tom and Greg, though they don't know it and the titles are awfully mean lol

Connor tries to go to as many of your shows as possible. All your siblings have seen you perform live at one point or another. They all have different reactions

Connor couldn't be prouder. Truly, you are the light of his life, his little pop star

Shiv can understand the anger and hurt, but she doesn't love that you're airing out all their dirty laundry for all your fans to hear

Kendall definitely listens to your songs secretly. You're always blaring through his headphones. Only a Roy would ever understand what it's like to be him, summing up the situation perfectly. No other artist could ever get it more right. He pretends not to know, though

Roman goes once and decides it's too loud, leaving halfway through. He loves you, but he still remains skeptical, that this is one massive phase or tantrum that you'll grow out of. It's one big fuck you to Dad and that's all fun and games, but you'll have to grow up eventually

You don't care what they think. You've got what you've always wanted. It still feels totally surreal. Your fans are the nicest people alive. They're so kind and supportive and v against your father, even when you dedicate shows to him

The song writing and adapting never stops. You're always trying to get out the next best thing

It's never been about money or fame, though those are nice perks. It's about reaching an audience and proving them all wrong. It's not a fantasy, it's not something you should give up on

Going back to those coffee shops and all those nooks and crannies you used to play in, playing for them again, singing for them again

No matter what you do you know you will never have the respect of your father or his peers. The more your siblings fight, the more they become him, the more you lose

I definitely hear them sounding something like ANIMALS by PVRIS / Worms by Ashnikko / Black Sheep by Metric / anything by Grimes all mixed together lol. I only listen to female musicians sorry abt that!!!

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

⚡️ and ☀️ for the ask game :)

DAMM YALL WORK FAST- (also call out post before was deserved /pos lol)

ANYWAYS- ⚡️-Have you ever spontaneously added something to your story that you wouldn't have added normally? If so, what made you do it?

First question, all the fucking time- half of my stories have random shit that I improvised on the spot. The cafe?? one of the main settings now?? Made on a whim because the Leslie chapter felt too short.

I think the most startling one is (btw im dyslexic) and had convinced myself it was Alan Draper and not Alvin Draper, so I now have a whole conveluted reason of WHY I put the wrong fucking name in that actually led me to a huge plot point coming into play and shifted my entire plan for the ending of the fic. So yeah :)

☀️-What's your favorite part of your WIP?

To write? Tims inner monologuing & Oneliner gags for each of the kiddos

To read? Stephs chapter hands down. I was laughing at my own shit, that and her perspective is just a blast. (and im bias)

[padawansuggest]

Consider

Obi-Wan 7yo, wakes up from naptime in the creche after a Very Important Vision

Immediately skips bail to go out into the temple proper, following whispers of the force (more like cackling lmao) till he gets to a training salle

Training salle is occupied by 15-18yo padawans in the middle of practice, one of which being Kelleran Beq, The Sabered Hand, who is a cheerful teen who wants to be a creche master after he’s knighted

Of course an unaccompanied initiate in the salles is always a cause for concern, so Kelleran comes over to coax the boy into telling him why he’s wandered off

Obi: I’m going with you next month when you go to the production studios for your first filming of the Jedi Temple Challenge

Is questioned on if his creche master just told him that??

Nah he saw it in a dream

Cool cool cool Kelleran LOVES the possessed ones, they’re so cute

Asks kiddo why he thinks he’s going with

Cause Obi-Wan needs an escort to audition for the next season of Sesame System, a show that teaches children and reduces the galaxy’s gap of learning between the poor and the rich, so he can teach the galaxy about what it’s like to be a Jedi!

Okay okay that’s chill lil buddy, Kelleran will be in the production studio anyways cause they’re in the same place

Turns out the REAL Jedi Temple Challenge was the 10 under 10s Kelleran got to help wrangle along the way

Not fully sure where this is going other than Jango Fett (only 3 years older here and not 6) ending up on the same season of Sesame System only for him and Jaster (who’s also got the exact same goals of endearing the public to Mandalorians and is using the show to help point out the Mandalorian kids shows the galaxy can show their kids too, while Obi is pointing at Jedi Temple Challenge) to immediately decide that’s a prime little buddy and now they wanna keep him

The temple settles on a middle ground of letting them babysit Obi sometimes by sticking him in Mando production studios

Kelleran is very worried about baby getting kidnapped by the prince of Mandalore but accepts that Obi also really likes the prince they’re vode now

I. Fucking. Love. Childrens early educational shows and stuff like that. And I want to write an entire series about the shows the Jedi and Mandos could put out to endear themselves to the galaxy and it’s basically propaganda but not bad because the Sith could never get a foothold because Jedi are just sweet little guys with god powers what’s not to love lol

And then the ideas combined in my head when this last Mando episode reminded me of Jedi Temple Challenge (I never actually watched it but I did overall hear about it when it aired) and I decided Kelleran needs to make my dumb ideas a reality.

Obi’s master is a Jedi who’s been doing acting their whole life too but it can’t be Mace because Mace is a theater kid and not a kids show kid he needs a less theatric and more educational master 😔

Ani ends up being on a couple seasons of Sesame System (I specifically chose this as a parody idea because I have BEYOND respect for Sesame Street and I truly believe in the power of kindness and friendship the show likes to give us) when Obi-Wan first finds him and Ani is really nervous at first but they let him rant about sand on the show so they’re chill now

Qui-Gon is not Obi’s master but he DID get wrangled into taking Kelleran and the kids to the studio (it’s in fairly neutral area on a station, but around a planet for outdoor scenes because it’s just easier for legal reasons) and that led to them missing the Telos mission and Xanatos got therapy instead and Qui-Gon isn’t an asshole cause he’s still got his kids

Shmi works on the production station

More kids shows in fantasy and sci-fi settings plz.

[brumeraven]

🍂: Interview with a Boundless Candidate || dolls, boundless, creativity, transformations, saints, cute?, sorry to the confused

"Please state your name for the record."

"..."

"Nothing?"

"names are...well, they can't be self-assigned."

"Good catch. Sorry about the trick question, but you understand why we have to make you jump through all these hoops."

"it's fine."

"How long have you lived as a doll?"

"my whole life. or, well, maybe that's just how i've been treated."

"How you've been treated?"

"sorry, how this one has been treated."

"So the whole world treats you like a doll?"

"more or less, this one supposes."

"But how long has it been since you decided to just accept it? To stop fighting back and just give up your personhood?"

"it did not make the decision; this is...it's just the way it is. the way it's always been."

"Mm, fair. Dolls don't choose."

"dolls don't choose."

"And you believe that you'll be happier as a doll?"

"i...it has never really...understood the concept of happiness."

"You're unhappy being treated this way?"

"this one has never seen happiness as attainable."

"But you need this to feel comfortable?"

"no, not really."

"Then what exactly do you expect to get out of this?"

"congruence. alignment of expectations and reality."

"My point is, what do YOU want out of this? You, not the people around you."

"...this one does not want anything."

"Rather not say?"

"no."

"Well, let me take a stab at it. You just want to feel wanted. Want to be given worth, want to be a valued pet, a cherished possession, because you can't find any self-worth, so you need extrinsic reassurance your life has purpose and meaning."

"..."

"You're afraid of responsibility. Afraid of agency. Afraid of fucking up your own life any more than you already have. You'd rather a Witch, or even a human, fuck it up for you. At least it wouldn't be your fault, then; at least you could pretend you're worth shit."

"..."

"Well let me tell you something, kiddo; those are bad fucking reasons to throw away your humanity. Because, hate to break it to you, but you aren't worth shit just because someone likes you."

"it's not like that. not for this one."

"No? Then why don't you tell me what it is, hm?"

"it's just...well, efficient."

"Efficient?"

"i can't stand it. this one cannot stand it. it wastes so much time worrying about what to do, what not to do, prioritizing and tracking and deciding."

"You're looking for...what exactly?"

"this one has value; it is certain of it. it is capable of great things and has several useful skills. time management is not one of them. it's greatest fear is that it will waste its entire existence shaving yaks."

"Shaving...yaks?"

"it simply wishes to be able to work without the cruft of life getting in the way. without wasting its time worrying about what it should be doing at any given time."

"...So you want a manager, not a master."

"this one wants a scrum master."

"..."

Interviewer Comments: NOT THE WORST REASON I'VE HEARD

Verdict: ACCEPTED

~🍂

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wips on Wedsdays

He kiddos, it's actually my Wednesday so imma post a few wips. tagging @thequeenofthewinter @archangelsunited @kookaburra1701 @rhiannon1199 @viss-and-pinegar @saltymaplesyrup @rainpebble3 @throughtrialbyfire @rosette-dragonborn @mareenavee @snippetsrus @snowy-weather No pressure, this is all just for funs <3

We got art and a smidgen of writing:

Starting with a close-up of the tat details in the render I'm working on. This redo that isn't purely a redo is coming along well. Just gotta add three more tattoos and alllllllll of his scars. Full art and a writing snippet under the cut.

IDK I think it's going well so far ;) and a snippet from Sleepers Awake chapter 7

Teldryn hated tombs. He hated tombs, the undead, the fucking bleached ash that covered the floor after centuries of recycling the same old fucking urns! He hated the way the tombs would wind like a maze. These halls had turned him around to the point of utter confusion! Teldryn hated having to enter the halls of the Dunmeri dead. It creeped him out, to put it bluntly. He had complained about this assignment, of course. It was the last thing he expected when Cosades sent him to go meet with a Blades informant who studied over at the Balmora Mages Guild. The old sugar-tooth had been vague about what this might entail. Just telling him that the notes he got from his last mission weren’t fucking enough and he had to go bother some mage about a fucking myth! The Nerevarine, how fucking ridiculous! The expectation with these missions seemed to be something along the lines of ‘a favour for a favour’ and the mage he’d been sent to, an orc named Sham gra-Muzgob was asking one hell of a fucking favour! She was after the skull of some poor sod named Llevule Andrano. That meant he had to break into the Andrano Ancestral Tomb out on the Bitter Coast. Shit was pretty much a one-way ticket to an execution if he was caught. When he’d mentioned that, the woman merely replied- “Then don’t upset the natives when you do it.” Cosades had said this would be a ‘silly little errand’. How the fuck is desecrating the remains of a member of a fucking hugely influential family in House Redoran a silly little errand? Then there was the justification gra-Muzgob gave him for all of this shit. Something about his people’s death practices being primitive, superstitious nonsense. Teldryn had held his tongue as best as he could. The last thing he wanted was to be thrown in fucking Fort Moonmoth again. The shit they did there…he was glad they’d only pulled out his toenails. Teldryn sucked in a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves as he stepped into what he hoped was the chamber that this skull was being kept in. “Look for the one with the ritual markings,” he murmured under his breath as he pulled down the old, silk scarf he’d taken from Suran. A keepsake he allowed himself amongst the things of his that his mother managed to save after his grandfather had thrown most of his belongings into the fire. Llaro had really tried to erase his existence entirely. He wanted to shake the hand of the guy who killed the miserable old cunt! Teldryn tapped his fingers on the rough chitin of his pauldron as her scanned the small, sand-coloured room. Carved into the earth thousands of years ago, the clay walls were smooth and rounded around the edges. His eyes fell on what looked like a small altar at the lip of a pool of ashes. An enchanted chitin dagger and a skull with something carved into its forehead, Daedric runes by the looks of it. Red pigment coloured the thin grooves in the bone. It made him shudder as he knelt down by the altar and stared into Llevule Andrano’s hollow eye sockets. He wondered if he should say something before he went and just took the thing. He knew that there was some sermon that one would recite when they visited the dead. Something that eased the ancestor’s spirit of some shit like that. He had never actually listened to what was said in those sermons. Never listened to the shit spoken by the temple priests either. Honestly, he found it boring, preferring instead to disappear into his own head whenever they started to rattle on. Shit was way more entertaining…until his mind became the enemy of course. He longed for that simplicity. Shit was folly. Teldryn wracked his brain for something appropriate to say. Sure, he might not have cared much for the Tribunal’s teachings as a kid but fuck if he wasn’t bitterly fucking aware of how wrong this all seemed. Teldryn sighed as he took the skull into his shaking hands, opting to mutter a simple “Sorry,” to the spirit before he pulled his scarf from around his neck and wrapped the skull in it before he carefully placed it into his pack.