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kkcauseway · 11 months ago

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Upgrade To Grandpa

Summary: Sarah survives that fateful day and so she and Joel are happy in Jackson surrounded by family. She has been feeling off for a little while and so goes to get checked, its there she finds she's pregnant. Aged 22 and having recently lost her boyfriend she needs her family around to support her and they do just that. Content and warnings: Tw-depictions of childbirth, brief mention of sickness. So much family fluff, Caring!Joel, Parent!Joel, Joel being the best dad/ grandad imaginable. Word count: 4.4K Authors note: Okay so I was so excited the entire time I was writing this! Like it honestly makes me happy writing about Grandpa Joel. I really really hope you enjoy this. 🩷

After missing her period for three months in a row, firstly expecting it’s due to stress and then grief, Sarah finds herself at Jackson’s doctor with Maria in tow for support. It’s there she finds out that she’s pregnant, she cries for a long time having just lost her boyfriend; killed in an ambush a few weeks prior. She’s definitely happy about it to an extent, but what sort of life is this child going to have, Jackson’s safe, probably the safest place on earth but anything could happen. That thought is always in the back of her mind, even though she berates herself for ever thinking it. However, having a piece of Sam with her forever in her child is somewhat a blessing. Is 22 too young to have a baby, especially alone? Her dad, did it? Her mind’s constantly jumping with questions, fears, even regrets. How is she going to cope with all this?

After having a long talk with Maria, once she’s calmed down from the initial shock of news, she decides on telling her dad that night. ‘Just bite the bullet and get it over with’ Maria encourages; she knows Sarah doesn’t need the extra stress that keeping a secret like this would entail. And it’s not like anyone was going to be mad she’s an adult, but she’s still scared of disappointing her dad.

“Daddy you’re gonna be so mad at me…” is how the conversation begins. And it ends with ‘Baby I’ll always support you; nothin’ would ever make me turn my back on you, ever, I love you forever, that will never change, I’m happy s’long as you’re happy.’ And she is happy, -well since the initial shock of the fact she’s growing another life inside of her blew over that is. He gives her a long hug at the end of their chat.

Her dad, Tommy and Maria have been there for her all the way through her pregnancy. Anyone would think they’re more excited than she is. Tommy and Joel especially dote over her and the bump, and as soon as she started showing she wasn’t ‘allowed’ to do anything. They’re always adamant on her resting, and them doing the jobs she needs to do for her. Does she listen hell no! It’s boring being sat around all day; she may not have been going out on patrols, but there’s enough to do around town to keep her occupied. It’s only when she’s near full term that she agrees to ‘light duties only’ if she refuses rest.

It’s a cool December’s afternoon, she’s at the stables with Tommy helping him to brush the horses. She’s been feeling off since the night before, so Joel demanded ‘no lifting and no excessive exercise’ if she refused to stay home, which she did. She’s feeling a little off, not incapable of any and all activity, and so brushing the horses under the supervision of her Uncle it is. She loves them, and they help her to feel at ease; nobody could be mad at her for that.

They’re down to the last four mares when Sarah feels some pressure below and something of a small gush. Did her water just break? When she feels a second small rush of liquid accompanied by a spasm in her back, she’s sure.

It’s starting…

“Erm Uncle Tommy” Sarah breaks the comfortable silence between them as she puts the brush down on the nearest surface she can find. Holding the underside of her belly with her free hand.

“What is it, Babygirl?” he looks up to her over the horse he’s brushing.

“I think… I’m pretty sure my water just broke”.

“Ha ha good one”

“No Uncle Tommy I’m serious, I definitely felt something, and I know for sure I didn’t pee myself”.

Tommy throws his brush down and races over to her. He automatically goes into panic mode on seeing the wet patch of her trousers. Sarah actually has to calm him down before they can go about doing anything about the current situation.

“Tommy it’s okay it’s just my waters, I’m okay it’s not like the baby is just going fall out we have so much time. First babies take forever we read all about this. Let’s just put these horses away and then we’ll walk back home, okay?”

“Are you sure? Cus we can just go back now. Fuck the horses.”

“Tommy I’m okay, promise”. She laughs.

Once the horses are tied back up- Sarah isn’t allowed to help, she’s told ‘to sit her ass down and look pretty’ whilst her Uncle rushes to finish the current task- they get ready for the walk home.

“Right Babygirl, let’s get you home.” He says walking back over to her. He holds his hands out to her, and she takes them gladly, pulling herself up. Tommy zips her coat all the way up before linking arms with his niece, they then begin the slow walk back to the house. Snow is falling, it’s a pretty sentimental moment.

“How you feeling Sar?” he quizzes softly.

“Uncle Tommy I’m okay”.

“Are you sure?” his words catch in his throat slightly.

“Are you just gonna keep asking me?” she asks with a soft chuckle.

“Heck yeah I am!”

“You’re funny” she pats Tommy’s arm as she laughs.

“Ah, I know” he laughs with her “So, y’think them pains and the way y’been feelin’ was to do with labour then?”

“Early labour probably, I dunno, but I’m glad I stayed active this morning, couldn’t stand the idea of being stuck in bed.”

“Bed is what y’needed girl”.

“God how did I just KNOW that’s what you were gonna say, stop sounding so much like dad you’re supposed to be the cool one”. She pulls a face at him.

“Listen I am the cool one, but you’re in labour I cannot be cool right now, it’s taking everythin’ in me not to run around like a fuckin’ headless chicken t’ask anyone and everyone I can see f’help.”

“Jeez you drama queen. Never thought a baby would turn you into such a wimp”.

“I ain’t no wimp”

“Mmm you sure about that?”

“Super sure,” but he couldn’t sound less sure if he tried.

They continue on the walk, snow crunching underfoot when a wave of pain overcomes Sarah, she tries to walk through it, but Tommy can feel the tightening of her arm on his and he sees the way her expression begins to change. He makes her stop then and turns to look at her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re okay darlin’ just breathe, okay?” She nods as she exhales looking him in the eye. “Good then, y’got this.”

Sarah takes deep breaths in and out. The pain not being too bad to manage yet. But she knows what’s to come and that’s what panics her. She can’t handle this. She’s not ready for this. Her breathing begins to speed up, but not because of the pain.

“Uncle Tommy I can’t do this, I’m not ready, I’m not ready to be a mom. I’m not ready yet.” She looks down in teary eyed shame to her bump as she gasps.

“Babygirl” he grabs her chin softly, raising it so she has to look him in the eye “you’re so ready, so so ready, we’ve been preparing for so long now. And you’re so excited for this so don’t go getting scared now. You’re going to meet your baby! After all of this time waitin’ an plannin’, you’re finally gonna meet them! It’s excitin’!” Thankfully, Tommy manages to bring a smile to her face, and with the pain completely gone they can continue walking.

They eventually make it to the front door; Tommy knocks rather frantically which of course is gonna scare the shit out of Joel.

“There’s no need to knock like that, he’s gonna think someone’s died.” She scoffs as they turn their heads to look at one another.

“Meh, play with his head a lil, give him some excitement.” He jests cocking his brow at her.

“Listen Dad’s gonna have more than enough excitement, anger and literally any other emotion you can think of thrown at him till this baby is born he don’t need you starting him off.”

“Sorry mommmm” he utters in exaggeration rolling his eyes.

“Shut up” she says hitting his side with a smile.

Joel doesn’t answer, but the lights on inside prove he’s home, meaning he’s probably too busy focusing on his latest woodwork project in the back and can’t hear them or he’s sat on the back porch with his guitar in hand. Something like that, curse his bad ear.

“Let’s see if we can get in round the back gate, your dad’s so deaf I swear”.

“Hey.” She hits him softly. “The man has been shot at and shot more guns than literally anyone else I know at least he has reason.”

“Nah he’s just an old fart.”

“Well, that still makes you the old farts younger brother, the younger fart”.

“Aha you’re sooo funny.” He remarks sarcastically.

“Runs in the genes so thanks I know I am.” She smiles, before shivering slightly. Tommy notices.

“Right, come on sweet girl let’s get you in the warm. S’freezing out here.” Tommy sighs.

He guides her round to the back gate of the house.

“Joel y’here?” He shouts, letting go of Sarah to open the gate leading to the back of the house. Once open they make their way through. He’s not on the back porch and on trying the back door evidently because Joel’s home, it’s unlocked. Yet Joel is nowhere to be seen.

“M’gonna get some water.” Sarah says solemnly, waddling to the sink once they’ve made their way inside.

“Sure, I’m gonna go upstairs n’find your dad, he must be there.”

“Okay. Just, don’t panic him please.” She smiles at him sadly as she makes her way over to the cupboards.

“Promise.” It’s said with sincerity.

Tommy makes his way upstairs and finds Joel exactly where he expects to, whittling away in his woodworking room. Vinyl player playing softly next to him. Completely in his element. Tommy knocks on the open door as he walks into the room.

He looks over his shoulder “Oh, hey Tommy” he begins swiveling round on his chair to face him. “You’re back early, everythin’ okay?”

“You promise me you’ll stay calm?”

His face falls instantly “Tommy what is it? Where’s Sarah, she okay?” he reaches behind him to put his latest creation down, before crossing his arms.

“You gotta promise me” he puts his hand up in front of him, and that’s when Joel realises how serious it is.

He sighs “okay fine, I promise” and with that he sits up straighter, bracing himself.

“Sarah’s water broke,” Joel’s eyes bug but he doesn’t say or do anything as Tommy continues “I think she’s real scared, she’s tryna act brave, but she’s scared”.

After a few seconds of processing the news his breathing speeds up as he brushes a palm over his face. “Shit Tommy her water, you’re sure?”

“She seems pretty certain. It’s time.”

“Shit.” It’s a whisper as he rakes his hands through his hair.

“We’ve gotta stay calm, I can tell how scared she is”.

“You’re askin’ an awful lot of me there Tommy, she’s my lil girl.” He laughs nervously as he stands from his chair, pacing.

“I know, but that’s also gonna go in y’favour, you always know how t’calm her down, so just be yourself, you can let the panic out when it’s all over.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He looks behind Tommy to the landing then, knowing his daughter is in labour down those stairs. Panic evident on his face.

“Joel she’s gonna be great. She’s got”- he’s interrupted by a glass breaking.

Instantly reacting they’re both quick to run down the stairs.

“Sarah! You okay?!” Joel shouts as he scrambles his way into the kitchen. Almost tripping over where Sarah has left her shoes, right in the damn middle of the floor like usual, he takes a mental note to tell her off about that later.

They find her gripping onto the worktop hard; Joel runs straight to her rubbing her back. “You’re okay babygirl just breathe; you’re doin’ so good”.

“It hurts Daddy!” She cries.

“I know Baby but you’re doin’ so good. You just remember t’breathe through it like we read about, in an out, good, in for four, hold, out for six. Calm it right down that’s it.”

Sarah lets out a shuddering breath as the pain begins to deplete. “I am not lookin’ forward to how this is gonna carry on” she says as she stands up straighter.

“Don’t move Baby” Tommy says softly, “you’ll cut yourself on the glass, just stay still and let me clean this up.”

“M’sorry I broke it.”

“Joel, sort your daughter out, fuckin’ apologisin’ when she’s got nothin’ to apologise for.” He shakes his head scoffing as he bends down dustpan and brush in hand to clean up the glass.

🌷🌷🌷🌷

After about an hour Jackson’s midwife Alison makes her way over to their house to check in, it seems the beginnings of labour are really taking their time. It’s like they always say first babies take their sweet time. Sarah’s warned that it’s ‘gonna be a long one’.

The next few hours are spent with them finding any way they can to entertain Sarah. Games of cards, they manage to get an old DVD player working and watch a classic, heck her and Maria even bake some cookies. Well, more they TRY to bake cookies, its Mainly Maria with the slightest input from Sarah when she’s not in agony. Anything to distract her from what’s to come.

The fresh batch of cookies make everyone’s mouths water. And Sarah eats four before any of the rest of them have finished one. Usually they’d tell her it’s too much too fast, that she’ll make herself sick, but anything to keep her strength up. She needs all the energy she can get even if that is helped by a sugar rush induced by freshly baked cookies.

When the pains begin to get worse, but it’s obvious it’s still going to be a long time until baby comes, they use exercise to try to move it along.

Tommy and Maria stay behind to help set the room up ready for when Sarah is ready to give birth, and Joel and Sarah decide on a walk. Joel helps to wrap her up warm, layers and layers so she will be comfortable. They take it slow walking the dark snowy streets of Jackson, lit up by strings of lights, stopping with each pain that hits.

“Oh Babygirl, what are we gonna do with you. Forever scarin’ the shit outa me.” He laughs shaking his head.

“Oh, I apologise that the birth of your grandchild is such an inconvenience.” She laughs back.

“Hey, no you take that back, m’only jokin’.” He’s serious.

“Jeez dad so am I, God you really are on edge.”

“You bet your fuckin’ ass I am. Takes me right back t’the day you were born.”

She sighs solemnly “Was it awful?”

“Mmm, well it was awful watchin’ your mom in pain especially when there weren’t much that I could do t’help. I felt more like a nuisance than anythin’, but when it was all over, I’d never been so happy.”

“You and me against the world huh Daddy?”

“Babygirl, when I first held you in my arms I couldn’t stop cryin’, shit I was just a kid myself, I didn’t know what I was doin’, but from that day onwards I vowed t’always be the best version of myself f’you.”

“You’ve always been so amazin’.” She smiles at him cuddling into his side much harder as his arm tightens round her even more.

“You had so much hair, god I’ll never forget thinkin’ I’ve never seen a baby with so much hair, and your tiny little hands and feet, you just really were perfection. The definition of perfection was born that day. My beautiful Babygirl. I knew from that day on that everythin’ was gonna be okay, I vowed t’work so hard to give you the best life I could, and I know we weren’t rich, and obviously your momma decided she couldn’t cope, but I always tried to keep you happy, this end of the world bullshit makes me feel like I failed but-”

“No stop- I was always the happiest child; you don’t have to worry about failin’ me. I’ve always been so happy because of you. Even with the end of the world and everythin’ else we stayed together; we grew together. Honestly dad if I’m half the parent to this one than you’ve been for me, they’ll never want for anythin’!” she rubs her stomach as she briefly looks down to her bump.

“Oh, Baby you have no idea how happy it makes me feel hearin’ that.” He says his voice breaking as he evidently tries to hold back tears.

“Dad don’t cry cus you’ll make me cry.” They look to each other briefly and Sarah being so up and down hormonally, breaks at the sight of her teary-eyed father, which then sets him off too. They stop in the middle of the street to embrace. Before they both burst out laughing tears still streaming.

“Whew, emotions really are high tonight.” Joel laughs.

Sarah goes to reply but is sidetracked by a really bad pain. Instead, she leans into her dads shoulder as she groans through it. She’s grown to be very vocal as times dragged on, which Joel knows means she’s progressing as she should, but he hates everything about having to watch her go through it. He reaches to try to push on the bottom of her back, whispering to her to keep breathing and reminding her of how good she’s doing.

She eventually lets out a long breath standing straight. “I just want them to come out now. I can’t take much more of this” she groans sadly.

“I know babygirl I know; they’re comin’ I promise. First babies always take their time, but it’s almost over. N’hey listen Sam would be so proud of you, you know that? He was a good kid. Y’know I never liked him at first, but he really grew on me, he was a good man to you, and I respect him so much for that. He’s gonna be lookin’ down on you so so proud” he whispers.

“I miss him, I wish he was here to help me” she begins softly crying again as the words leave her.

“Shhh, I know you’re scared; I know you feel unprepared trust me I felt the same, and in a way you’re never really ready, you just learn as you do. You’ll be an expert in no time babygirl. You’re a natural anyways, always have been with your dolls when you were younger, n’you’re amazing when you help out in the nursery. Everyone says so. So, there’s none of this ‘I can’t do this’ ‘m’not ready’ because you’re so ready. Plus, this walkin’ will really help trust me and when we get back Alison already said she’ll check you t’see how far along you are, as it’s been a while, I’m sure it won’t be too much longer now.”

“I really hope so, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“You got this Baby.” He kisses the top of her head before they link arms again and carry on walking back to the house.

🌷🌷🌷🌷

It’s another two hours till she gets to the point where she can push. They set the living room up for her ready, and she opts on squatting before the sofa as she finds that is the most comfortable position. Alison is on the floor watching between her legs waiting for the signs she can begin to push; ready to catch. Maria next to her on the floor in awe rubbing at Sarah’s lower back so that Tommy and Joel can sit on the sofa either side of her, both holding one of her hands. Unable to see anything more than her face which is just as she wants it to be.

“I feel sick.” She whimpers when in position just having got through another contraction, her breathing erratic. It’s clear she’s panicking about it.

“There’s a bin here ready just in case.” Maria reassures.

“A lot of ladies feel sick or even throw up when they’re in labour, it’s okay don’t be worried; all perfectly normal.” Alison states rubbing a hand up one of her legs. She seems to relax at those words, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Okay. Can I have some more water please?” she asks to no one in particular.

“Here baby.” Joel is quick to grab a glass of water from the side. She sits back on her heels releasing both hands she’s holding to take a large swig from the glass.

“Ugh.” She grimaces as she swallows, handing the glass back to her dad. “That’s made me feel worse, I thought it might help.” She moans rubbing a hand against her bump the baby obviously kicking her.

“I’m sure it has helped baby y’bodys just goin’ through so much right now s’finding it hard, you’re fine babygirl trust me.” He smiles at her whilst stroking her cheek.

She nods then briefly smiling at her dad before moaning as another pain begins. She quickly grabs both hands back and sways in her squatting position.

When she gets the all clear to push, she gives it absolutely everything she’s got, desperate for it all to be over now so she can finally meet her baby.

“Come on babygirl!” Joel shouts as Tommy and Maria simultaneously shout “You got this!” “Go girl!”

Alison counts to ten and at ten Sarah lets out a large gasp.

When she’s able to get her breath back enough to speak before the next contraction she adds “No one tell me what it is, okay? I wana see for myself when they’re in my arms.”

“That’s fine sweetie we can do that no problem, you can be the one to announce it okay?” Alison utters.

She begins nodding, but the next pain takes over and Sarah switches right back into the pushing mindset, going completely silent as she pushes and pushes. Finally releasing her breath with a gasp.

“One more and the head will be out Sarah come on, baby is nearly here!” Alison cheers from below her.

“Come on one more baby and the worst is over!” Joel reassures.

Eyes moving upwards “promise?” she looks pleadingly to her dad.

“Yeah Baby, heads the worst part, the baby will be out before you know it after that.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Push with all you’ve got on this next pain! They’re almost here!” Alison enthuses.

When the next contraction begins Sarah screams the house down as she pushes, squeezing her dad and uncle’s hands to death. She feels the head pop out and Alison requests that she pants.

“Can- can- fuck- is it okay if I feel?” Sarah requests frantically between pants.

“Sure!” Alison enthuses.

She releases her dad’s hand to feel her baby’s head. Gasping at first touch “is- is that hair?” she questions.

“Yup, and they’ve got a hell of a lot of it!” Alison exclaims.

“That’s just like you Baby.” Joel utters causing Sarah to look into his eyes. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. “Now gimme your hand back so you’re ready to push again.”

“No Daddy, my hands gross now.”

“I don’t care come on I’m supposed to be supportin’ you.”

She seems hesitant but when the next contraction gets into full swing, she throws her hand back at her dad and pushes. She takes a quick breath in and is advised to push again. With that final push the baby leaves her body, and she relaxes instantly.

“Good well-done Sarah! They’re gorgeous!” she exclaims as she begins wiping the screaming babies face with a clean towel. “Let’s get this cord cut so you can sit back nice and covered up whilst we wait for the afterbirth, okay? Then everyone can meet this beautiful baby.”

With the cord having turned white she cuts it, and Sarah carefully moves so her back is against the sofa and Maria carefully picks up the swaddled baby and places them in her arms. Alison places a sheet over her knees so she can focus on getting the afterbirth out without anyone having to see.

“Well, what have we got?” Joel whispers leaning over his daughters shoulder to coo at his beautiful grandchild screaming softly swaddled in the towel.

Sarah opens up the towel to investigate letting out a wet chuckle at her findings. “It’s a girl!” she announces excitedly.

“A girl!” Joel replies wetly, unable to stop the tears that begin to flow.

Joel is absolutely besotted. Unable to tare his eyes away from the content little bundle in his daughter’s arms. She’s a mom now, his baby is a mom, his baby has a baby.

“God she’s just so beautiful Baby. Looks so much like you did too. You’ve made me so proud” he praises softly.

“I can’t believe I did it.” She murmurs softly not taking her eyes off her daughter as she strokes a finger over the fist of her daughter.

“You did amazin’.” Tommy praises. “S’like a trip down memory lane aint it, God she could be your twin Sarah aint that right big brother?”

“Absolutely.” Joel agrees.

She turns her gaze to her uncle. Then she looks to her dad. “I’m sorry if I killed your hands.”

“Nah none of that.” Tommy quicky shuts her down.

“She’s so beautiful.” Joel coos bringing a finger to stroke over his now silent and content granddaughters tiny foot.

“You wana hold her?” Sarah whispers questioning her dad as she watches the way he loves her already from his delicate touch.

“Please.”

“Maria can you-?” she begins but Maria is already moving “I’m one step ahead of you” she laughs. Helping to remove the baby from Sarah’s arms to give over to Joel.

“God she’s so gorgeous” Maria coos before handing her over to Joel.

He sits back with his granddaughter cradled into his large arms.

“Oh.” He whispers quietly when her big brown eyes open to study him. “Hello beautiful girl, god just look at you. Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing. And little do you know just how lucky you are having Sarah as your momma? You’re so lucky babygirl, just like we are all lucky to have been blessed w’you.” He shushes her when she makes a little grunt noise, but she settles quickly. “Sarah m’so proud of you she is the most beautiful little thing.” He looks to his daughter who looks back at him exhausted, but she’s beaming with pride.

“She’s got a name y’know dad” she jests.

“She does, well what’s that then babygirl, can’t keep calling her ‘she’ now, can we?”

“Bea. It means ‘she who brings happiness’, I read it in a book and knew instantly that that was gonna be her name if she was a girl.” Sarah utters, with a big smile plastered on her face as she admires her dad cradling her tiny daughter; his granddaughter.

“Bea huh?” he chuckles wetly. “Well aint that just the most beautiful name, for the most beautiful girl.” She coos in response making everybody laugh. He adds “Yeah y’know it don’t you Bea Miller, you’re gorgeous just like your mama.”

“This is the best day of my life.” He adds a short while later, “’part from the day you were born of course babygirl.” He strokes Sarah’s head, and she laughs lightly before he looks at his granddaughter again.

He’s besotted, so full of love he could burst.

#joel miller #the last of us #tommy miller #pregnancy #maria the last of us #fluff #childbirth #sarah miller #family fluff #caring joel miller #upgrade to grandpa #pedro pascal character fanfic

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samriddhikatariya · 1 month ago

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The Weight of Metal (EXERCISE 2 DRAFT 1)

Year: 2104

Location: Norilsk, Former Russian Federation

They say the war began over something simple: land and airspace. But it never stays simple, does it?

The world was changing, again. The ice that once covered the far north had melted, revealing vast stretches of land no one had ever walked on. People said it was rich in minerals—things the world needed. Other places had long since exhausted their resources. Here, in the frozen north, there was still hope for new wealth, new power. The war wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. It was supposed to be fought in courtrooms, over treaties and digital signatures. But greed has a way of turning everything into violence.

My name is Polina. I was born in Norilsk, in what used to be Russia. I’m ten now, but sometimes I feel much older. It’s hard to stay a child in times like these. War is everywhere. I hear the airstrikes in the distance, sometimes close enough to shake our building. I haven’t gone to school in months, not since the first bombs fell. The sky is full of drones now, silent and invisible. They watch everything, controlling the airspace like ghosts that see without being seen. They say these drones can predict your movements before you even make them. Some say they can slow down time itself.

You’d think by now, after everything we’ve been through, people would’ve figured out how to settle things like grown-ups. But no. They want land. They want airspace. You know, because apparently there’s still something valuable buried under all that permafrost—well, what used to be permafrost. Now it’s just muddy, resource-rich land that’s worth fighting over. Yay, climate change. Who knew melting ice would spark a whole new kind of war?

And so, here we are. I’m sitting in what used to be our apartment, though it’s more like a bomb shelter now. The windows are cracked, the power’s gone, and the sky is full of drones. They’re up there right now, buzzing around like angry bees, waiting for someone to step out of line. It’s a lovely view if you ignore the explosions.

I have this coin. I’ve been carrying it around for as long as I can remember. It’s an old Russian ruble, made of real metal. Weird, right? It’s from when money was still a physical thing, back before everything went digital. My grandmother gave it to me, said it was for good luck. Well, thanks, Grandma, but I think the coin might be broken, because luck? Not really feeling it right now.

But the coin is interesting. Or maybe it’s just me. It’s gotten heavier, I swear. Every time I hold it, it feels like it’s absorbing the weight of everything around me—the bombs, the fear, the constant sense that nothing will ever be okay again. Or maybe it’s absorbing the stupidity of the people who started this mess. Who knows? Either way, it’s definitely not the same little coin I used to flip for fun.

It reminds me of the stories my mom used to tell me before all this started. You know, bedtime stories, except hers were about ancient wars and gods who fought over things that really mattered—like honor, or family, or some kind of moral principle. The Mahabharata. Ever heard of it? It’s this massive, epic tale from India, where warriors fight this huge war over a kingdom. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t end well for anyone. Kind of like now. Except back then, they had cool weapons that could shoot lightning or destroy entire armies with a single thought. Here? We’ve got invisible drones and time-warping tech. Same drama, just fewer gods and more gadgets.

Speaking of time, that’s another fun part of this war. Time doesn’t work like it used to. You know how people always say, “Time flies when you’re having fun”? Well, turns out, time flies even faster when you’re running for your life. Or, it stretches out forever when you’re stuck underground waiting for the next airstrike. And don’t even get me started on the drones. They can slow down time, or so people say. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it feels like it. When they’re hovering above, it’s like everything moves in slow motion. Great. Because what we really needed was more time to think about how screwed we are.

My coin, though. It’s doing something weird. It’s changing. I’ve started noticing cracks in it, like it’s about to break apart. But instead of crumbling, it’s glowing. Not like some cheap neon sign, but more like something alive. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. You know, the kind of thing you tell yourself when you’re hiding from bombs and your brain’s trying to distract you from the obvious. But it’s real. The coin is evolving, just like the war.

There’s this story from the Mahabharata about a weapon, a super-powerful one, called the Brahmastra. It’s basically a nuke but with divine flair. The heroes had to be careful with it because it could destroy the world if they weren’t careful. Well, isn’t that just the kind of thing you’d expect in an epic war? And here I am, holding my own little ticking time bomb, except it’s a coin. And I’m not a hero. I’m just a kid, trying to survive in a war I didn’t ask for, in a world that’s been turned upside down for a piece of land that no one cared about until it was too late.

The coin feels like my own personal Brahmastra. It’s heavy, glowing, and probably dangerous. But what am I supposed to do with it? Throw it at a drone? Ask it nicely to stop the war? Yeah, right. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that this coin is tied to all of this. Like it’s been absorbing the war, the conflict, the anger, and now it’s ready to burst.

We’re in a new age, they said. We’ve got the technology to fix everything, they said. But here we are, 80 years into the future, fighting over land, airspace, and resources like it’s the stone age with more pixels. What’s the point of all this tech if it just makes us better at destroying each other? Sure, we’ve got time-warping drones, but do we have peace? No. We just have more efficient ways to drag out the same old conflicts.

And as for the coin, who knows what it’s going to do next? Maybe it’ll crack open and reveal some ancient truth, or maybe it’ll just keep getting heavier until I can’t carry it anymore. Either way, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? All this tech, all these machines, and I’m still holding on to a piece of metal like it’s going to save me.

But that’s war for you. It doesn’t matter how far we advance. In the end, we’re all just fighting over the same stupid things, using whatever weapons we can find—whether it’s a coin or a drone that can bend time. The war never ends. It just changes shape.

So yeah, here I am, a ten-year-old with a glowing coin, stuck in a war over land and air rights in the year 2104. What could possibly go wrong?

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atranswomansdiary · 4 months ago

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Day 139

October 22, 2020

A little over two weeks have passed… And the fires of cancellation have died down.

Or at least that’s what it seems right now.

I’ve been spending these weeks mostly alone in the apartment I rent. I go out to work, come back, and sleep through the day and night. The only other stop along the way is to buy groceries at a small shop around the corner. I love the relationship I have there with the shopkeepers there, especially with the one that’s almost always there when I go. I don’t even know what his name is, but I care for him. I ask him how he's doing, I commiserate with him when I get to watch another customer act like an asshole (which happens way more often than any of us would like), and in general we always exchange some chit-chat about life’s happenings.

As cool as our relationship is, however, there’s something between us that he probably doesn’t even suspect—and that I have to ignore every time we interact.

He doesn’t know that I’m not who I present as. I’m not the nice neighbor (he/him), no; I’m the nice neighbor (she/her). I’m sure of that now.

The same thing happens at work. As much as I care for S.L. or anybody else in the company (who, I must say, for the most part have been nothing but great to me), I can’t help but feel that whatever relationship we have is just not real. And it’s not their fault! It is all mine.

Which brings me back to the reason why I’m writing you (or to you, I’m still not sure how to do this). Last Sunday was my mother’s birthday, and it was the first time I visited since the pandemic started. I was so happy to see them all (both of my sisters still live with them, as well as our three dogs!). We talked and ate and laughed as we always seem to do these days, and it pained me to have to return to my apartment at the end of the day. I just wanted to stay with them forever.

But the ghost of pretending appeared here as well. At one point during our neverending lunch I was about to open up and tell them about my discovery about who I truly think and feel I am, but… I just couldn’t. I couldn’t ruin another of my mother’s birthday, as I did accidentally twenty-something years ago. All of them (parents and sisters alike) told me many nice things and they displayed their love for me in many actions, both big and small.

And the thing is, as happy as it makes me to finally (?) know who I am (at least in one sense), a) I’m not 100% sure of my ideas and discoveries over the past few months (now less so than ever) and b) I’m not sure how they’d react. I have some hope for my sisters (especially the youngest, who’s a self-declared feminist), but my parents? My father couldn’t look at me when I was wearing make up during my “goth phase” (their words, not mine. It was never a phase! I’m still a goth). And my mother? Well, she’s always been there for me… with a few key exceptions. And those exceptions are the ones that set the fear of rejection deep in my heart and mind.

What’s worse, however, is that I may not get the chance to tell them my truth before they find out through third parties.

I was stupid enough to mention the cancellation catastrophe and they were obviously shocked and angry. Both of my sisters, especially, were ready to jump into the web and start arguing with J.N. and the rest.

I had to stop them, not so much because I didn’t want them to defend me (or upset them), but because J.N. included in the cancellation my “supposedly coming out as trans” as part of her accusations.

So, although I was able to stop my sisters then and there, I can’t be sure they won't go looking over for the cancellation stuff, perhaps just to get an idea of what they’re saying about me. And if any of them finds out about the trans stuff, I’m sure they’ll tell my parents. Not out of any desire to harm me, I’m sure, but just as a way to share info and try to support me as best as they can.

So: in other words, it may be just a matter of time before I’m outed to my family indirectly by J.N. and whoever else supports her. Considering that, I’d much rather tell them myself and risk whatever consequences may come from it. At least in this way I retain some sense of control over my private life and my thoughts and feelings.

I don’t know how much time I have left, but I just know I couldn’t do it in that moment. Maybe next time I visit? I don’t know when that’ll be, though. Most probably Christmas, but I may need to find a way to do so on a date that isn’t something special that can be ruined. I hope I can muster the courage quick enough to go through with this sooner rather than later.

Until then, with love,

#dear diary #journal entry #queer #trans #trans woman #transfem #transgender #transgirl #lgbtqia

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presdestigatto · 10 months ago

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🏎️💨 THE FORMULA 1 TAG GAME! 🏎️💨:

tagged by @solaireverie thank u bestie 🫶🐈

1. Who or what got you into F1?

so in 2018 my brother got an xbox and in 2022 f122 (?) was added to the game pass, he developed motorsport brainrot and would not stop blabbing to me about it 😽 then he mansplained the SG grand prix to me, i surprisingly found it interesting, and here i am

i think also i saw Seb trending on here in late 2022 and that made me more ‘aware’ of f1, in the sense that Seb was one of the few drivers i did know before, so there was some weird attachment there. there was a period of time where i stopped tuning in to the SG races (busy + covid) so that got me paying attention again

2. Who was the very first F1 driver you supported? Do you support them now? Have your opinions on them differed or stayed the same since then?

Ohhhh Charles Leclerc 🎊🎶 pretty much the same, i find the narrative around his career very compelling, i like his driving and he’s a cool guy

someone once asked me “did you just choose the first guy you saw on the TV” and honestly, if i think about it. Yeah. he was the first driver i saw when we switched on the race broadcast.

3. Who’s your current favourite F1 driver?

Charles! if Seb makes a return then it’ll be him, but i’m assuming this means current drivers only.

4. Is there a driver pairing or pairings you support? What made you attracted to that pairing in the first place?

my roman empire Sebchal…

Charles was the driver i liked and Seb was the driver i knew from my childhood so i was curious about the connection. i’m a big fan of the maturity with which they handled their off-track relationship; tbh my opinions of them as teammates purely-racing wise are mixed, but they’re also my two all-time favourites so my fondness gets amplified when they’re together

5. Do your parents, siblings or relatives have a favourite driver?

Well. my brother is a Lewis fan, my uncle is also a Lewis fan. from 2025 we’ll be an all Ferrari family 😮‍💨

my uncle has Lewis and Valterri’s driver cards and art prints of Coulthard and Barichello’s helmets in his house haha

6. Do you have any favourite races? Are there any that stand out to you the most?

Hockenheim 2019 and Hungaroring 2015!

i think Turkey 2010 also stands out in my memory thanks to arguably one of the funniest crashes in Seb’s career and the subsequent w2w between Jenson and Lewis.

7. Do you have a favourite circuit? Can be from the past or from the current calendar

Sepang, the incline is cool i hope they bring it back

8. Have you ever been to an F1 race in real life? Feel free to tell us your experience going to one if you like.

no money 😚😚 i could attend the SG GP but i heard you can’t see much, and tbh, the sg races are kind of snoozefests…

9. Have you ever met an F1 driver in real life?

nope! the idea of it scares me honestly. i may cry if I see seb in the flesh

10. Do you have a favourite F1 car? If so, what is it?

rb6 my speedy but unreliable queen

11. Do you have a favourite one win wonder?

i probably haven’t been watching long enough to have one

12. Do you have any favourite quotes from the F1 world? This can either be inspirational or hilarious.

i’m kind of obsessed with everything seb has ever said, particularly these:

“you, asking what happened at the start? // you came in like a torpedo” (rip kyvat)

“we have to remember these days. because there is no guarantee that they will last forever.” ♥️

also quite fond of Charles’ “it’s like this”, but hope we hear it less in 2024 🤞

tagging @verstappenclerc @baiuzennsenn @leqclerc @norrisgp @monacodarling if yall haven’t done it already!! (if u have, sorry 🫡) ++ anyone who wants to

#tag games

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toinfinitywinning · 8 months ago

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Dear IVIg—I’m still thankful you’re an option but youuu suck.

🤞🏼If it doesn’t help the only other known option to help relieve Pain THAT WE KNOW OF (@⁨Mom⁩ I want to make sure u saw how I phrased this b/c of confusion last time LOL) until something else is I guess figured out is to see my neurologist in Cincy Who spoke to Serena (Williams) for my migraines and finally have to do Botox which I believe might be her last option for me as well. I mean it is possible things in Life will not be healable and that’s just what I have to tell myself. I have to stay realistic and positive at the same time —some ppl might feel differently. That’s why I’ve told ppl to pls not tell me I’m going to heal or get better. It isn’t about the gesture, I know, and have thanked ppl for meaning well. But, we, you, research has no idea. Hope. You can Hope for me but it’s too hard to hear what might never happen. Now if it was strep—barring something really bad, yea. But similarly I can’t answer people when they ask me what I’m taking for it. Or if there is a cure. So, in my eyes look at it like any other disease that’s been researched w/o a cure for decades. And COVID is very very young. I think ab as old as one of my nephews, 5 yrs. so that means as I’m sure u have already figured out on your Own that’s all the research we got. So far my body doesn’t take to any of it. It doesn’t take to many medicines either. Like at all. And that being the hard Truth I’ve had to think about how much dueling with Meds and doctors I want to do. And I told Mom the other Day i may want to Stop trying things (wait.) b/c there is actually nothing else to do. No really. That is not me giving up. It’s stopping; knowing that for now this is what we have. I’ve exhausted what is known to possibly help and I’m exhausted trying until there’s something else. It is finally resting in the fact that I can rest in the fact knowing for now I can do it. But im exhausted and all u all R too! Again sounds dramatic and it is, but I will not be a Lab mouse or statistic or trial forever. I helped research for over 2 years. And somebody got LHC a week after me Who contributed to it too. And when I say nothing has helped. That is not a Gentry like exaggeration. It’s simply sadly true. I get pockets without Pain or a migraine bandaged w/ Tylenol. At first I didn’t have to swallow that. I was not this bad at first. And having almost Pain driven hallucinations some nights is all I need to experience to make that Choice.

So, I’m giving this IVIg a really Good “shot” and the Botox if needed and continue to try what we’re doing rn and then I will live knowing I can escape for a short period of time sometimes so not to take that for granted and I truly might be one of those ppl whose Family member stays on the back of the bulletin. They’re saturated with it. I remember being little at church drawing on that back page of the bulletin and wondering why ppl just stayed there forever. I thought it was a mistake or a running Tab idk. Didn’t get it. It’s not funny but yk. I just never—no kid, anyone holding to only shreds Left of innocence ever thinks it will be them, but there is so much more we will never see on the back of one for so many other things. I like those people.

Resting in rest could be Good. Any advice on how to do that?

PS Dad and Mom not many 70 yo’s can do what you’re doing to help so Cool your jets 🤣ツ . Let me count the ways. Later.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months ago

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Hi Ange!!! ✨

Ahh jumping on this game train because this ask game is so cool. Stealing some titles from songs, what would you do for “War of Hearts”, “Don’t Go Insane”, or “Meant to be Yours”? (You can choose one or all, I just couldn’t decide since they all sounded interesting!)

I hope you’ve been well, I feel like I haven’t stopped by in forever 😩 I got really busy all of a sudden, but think of you often!! I got a new job that I’m really nervous but so excited about! I’ve always wanted to be a bartender bc I think they’re so cool, so I’m excited but it’s also a lot especially dealing with people that aren’t always the nicest. But I have terrible terrible social anxiety, so I think it’s kinda helping me work through that in a way even if i’m kinda being thrown into the fire every now and then. 😵‍💫

How are you doing? I hope life has been treating you kindly! And that you’re getting a break every now and then. How is work? Please stay safe and healthy, much much love to you, Ange!! 🩶🩶🩶

-Hannah Montana anon.

Hey, love!

I will pop my response under a cut, as it will be a long one!

For the ask game:

War of Hearts - I'd do an angsty Aemond fic for this one. Aemond is deeply in love with his wife, but goes off to war and in the ensuing chaos, also falls in love with Alys. His wife finds out via correspondence from Daemon and is heartbroken. Aemomd dies before he ever gets a chance to explain that he loved them both and never meant to hurt her. She travels to Harrenhal to seek answers from Alys and the pair learn they aren't enemies, just victims of awful circumstances beyond their control.

Don't Go Insane - I would do an academic rivals Michael Gavey fic for this one - but completely one sided. A girl on Michael's course gets consistently better feedback and marks than him and it makes him irate, as he can't understand why. When he finally decides to confront her about it, she's unaware of who he even is, which annoys him even more.

Meant to Be Yours - I'd do a Tom Bennett fic for this one. Tom is stationed on the HMS Exeter with the boyfriend of a girl he's been sleeping with and is secretly in love with. He has to watch as he receives letters from her, while she's also writing to him too, and him having to listen to her boyfriend talk about how he plans to propose when they return slowly makes him more and more jealous.

That's so exciting about the new job, congratulations! I'm sure you'll do great. I am wishing you all the luck!

This week is kind of a nightmare for me - we have a house inspection tomorrow, so I have been busy preparing for that. I also have to go into the office on Thursday, and we're going on holiday on Sunday, so I feel like I'm watching all of the sand rapidly trickle out of my hourglass. I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed and not enjoying not having any time for myself! Trying to find the time and motivation to write is hard.

Trying to look ahead to the holiday though, and how fun that will be! Plus things will be considerably calmer once we get home.

Sending lots of love to you! Let me know how the new job is going xoxo

#asked and answered #hannah montana anon

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sassyandclassy94 · 2 years ago

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AH I'm so excited for you to be getting to know him! I feel like I haven't had a crush in forever so def living vicariously. It's fun noticing all the little things. Hmmm do you think he likes you back? Have you told your family how you feel? Have you ever dated anyone before? Has he? What would be your perfect first date?

Thank you!!! It is a rather exciting journey - an emotional roller coaster too but for the most part it is super exciting.

Oh yes I’m almost 99% positive that he likes me back! He gave me his number back in August and ever since we’ve been texting each other regularly (we take turns initiating the first texts too), and since September he’s been at my house 9 times and whenever he hangs out at my house, he stays till the very last second! Sunday night he was here until 10:35/10:40ish - I spent seven hours with him, maybe 8 and half if you count the time I spent with him at church. It was such a good day. He also commented on the denim jacket I was wearing Sunday… which I think is a good thing? OH! And back in December, he went out of state for his brother’s wedding and he texted me the entire week he was gone😱 He also recently mentioned that he remembered what month we had our first real conversation (it was April!) and what it was about!! (I asked him how his trip to Alaska was and said how Alaska is the top state I hope to visit some day). I’m trying to think of more examples🤔 Both my dad and best friend’s husband told me they’ve caught him sneaking glances during our game nights and OH!! Two weeks ago after youth group!! I was turned just so while I was talking to the top Bible club leader, and when Isaiah came up the stairs he caught eye contact with me, raised his eyebrows at me, and grinned! It was so cute! And the Sunday before Christmas!!! Cantata Sunday!! That was the first time I had seen him since before his brother’s wedding (it felt like so much longer than a week😭 I missed him so much!!) I told him I missed him, blah blah blah, and then when we were finishing up our chat he said, “It was nice to see you! Will you be here later for the cantata?” I said yeah cause my sister’s in it! He said “Well I’ll see you then then!” And then later that evening, after the cantata, he talked to me for a good long while😭 We even got talking about weddings, lol!! (My bestie told me that men don’t really talk about those things with girls they’re not that interested in so, POSITIVE SIGN!! And most recently, I had a really bad week at work and I’m trying to get a job elsewhere and he was SO helpful and encouraging about the whole thing. He really seemed to care about me and my well-being so there’s that too! So yeah! I’d say it’s an almost-sure thing that Isaiah does in fact lioe me back!

Yes, my family does know about my feelings for him - my middle sister was the first to know from the start. And they’re all cool about it! My family loves him and Isaiah honestly blends right in with my family! And k think they’re all starting to get really excited about the whole thing being that he’s been showing more blatant signs that he likes me :)

I do not know if he’s ever dated anyone before… we haven’t really talked about that kind of thing yet. If a certain source is to be reliable (which I can’t say for sure), he’s been burned by other girls before and he hasn’t had an actual girlfriend before. As for me, I have never had a boyfriend before - not even a real life crush! If we turn out to be endgame, Isaiah will be my first and only.

Hmmm… I think my idea of the perfect first date would be bowling! I’ve never gone before but he’s mentioned he loves it and has suggested I give it a try. So, if he ever gets around to asking me out, I feel like bowling will be the thing. So there ya have it! I hope I answered all your questions! I’m super flattered that you’ve taken an interest in my love life🥰 Sometimes I feel like I’m boring everyone with how much I want to and do talk about it/him. So it means a lot to me that you’ve taken an interest :)

#Ask Abby #the crush chronicles #personal

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quaranmine · 9 months ago

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Notes under the cut!

If you’ve made it to the end of this fic, thank you so so much for reading it. If you’re one of the people who followed along with this fic while it was being uploaded, a special thank you for all the support (and patience!) over this past year. Your support really helped give me confidence in sharing this story, and also a great “live monitor” of if I was successfully conveying what I wanted.

This is a fic that has consumed my life over the past year, from deep research to visiting real-life fire lookouts, outlining the fic and analyzing its themes in my car while I commuted, to trying to write a little every day. It’s very important to me. It’s (clearly) not autobiographical, but there are similarities in my own life that seep through the cracks anyway. I won’t tell you which parts, though. My secret :)

In the beginning of this fic, I debated whether or not Grian and Scar should ever meet face to face. I even made a poll back in March 2023. In the original Firewatch game, Henry and Delilah do not, and to me that feels right. Did I kind of want it? Yes, but it felt like the right narrative choice anyway. But Delilah is an original character, and every player would have had their own mental image of her by the end—it would have been difficult for the developers to match that. But you guys? Y’all already know who Scar is. I also think that a huge theme in this fic is Grian’s relationships with people, and how he intentionally pushes them away and isolates himself as part of his grief. Throughout the fic, while it never becomes perfect, he gets better and better at letting Scar in and accepting that support. And thus…it makes sense, thematically, for Grian to come back for Scar and not let this friendship die. It makes sense for him to reach out as a final part of his character development.

But this fic also has the problem where the ending that I want (Scar and Grian continue to be besties and work together forever and ever) is not the one that makes the most sense (Grian goes back home to his support system, pieces his normal life back together, and learns to live.) There’s no verison of this fic where it makes sense for Grian to stay in America or keep being a fire lookout, regardless of him being fired or not. He always had to go home. Anyway, y’all have my authorial word-of-god that they stay friends. I’m sure they’re real happy in the 90s when suddenly the internet starts becoming a feasible way to talk to people around the world LOL

This fic is also kind of a love letter to the outdoors and hiking, something I love. (It kind of kills me that I do not live in an area with any cool hiking for hours.) I grew up going to a National Park in my state every winter, and to this day it’s one of my favorite places on earth. I’ve backpacked less (only twice), but I know the drill. I hope some of this information rings true for y’all if you’re also hikers—though I think I have a habit of overestimating the distances Grian can hike per day! Also, you probably knew, but I have a background in environmental science and I used it for this fic wherever I could! My actual work is more in line with children’s environmental health/toxics/pollution than ecology so it was a nice diversion to research this instead. I also tried to apply as much of my knowledge about federal agencies as I could, so I hope that rings accurate too…though I often got to things like “well, idk how it worked in the 80s so I may as well guess!”

Additional notes: The meteor shower mentioned is the Perseids, which happens every year around August in the Northern Hemisphere. My mom used to wake me up late at night sometimes in the summer and take me to our front field to look at them when I was a kid. I bet they’d be even more spectacular in a dark sky park. I also didn’t know how long to keep him in the hospital for his burns, since it is SO variable based on the injuries received. So I just decided on a number for something that was serious, but not so serious it required a burn unit or any significant extra procedures.

Grian goes on to be okay in this universe, even if it is off-screen. He gets therapy. He heals. He stays friends with Scar. It's important for me to include all of that, because as sad as this fic is, the core of it is this: sometimes bad things happen, and it isn't okay, but you can get through it. Love you all, and thank you so much for reading.

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter Twelve; Final)

The after, and the end.

Chapter twelve: 7,050 words.

<< Chapter Eleven | Masterpost

Hi, thank you all so much for reading. I hope you like this chapter. I already know some of you will :)

No CW for this chapter. Trust me that I can’t do worse to you than the last chapter. This one will, of course, continue to reference events of the last chapter though so be prepared for more discussion of grief and death.

September 1989

It’s late afternoon when Grian walks down the trail, boots crunching softly on the leaves and gravel. His boots are rubbing his feet, despite the many miles he has walked this summer to break them in. He’s still wearing the old pair, battered and trashed as they are. It’ll be their last journey. It only feels right in the way it feels wrong. It’s like he’s slipping back into a part he played once that doesn’t quite fit anymore.

Still, the walking is meditative in its own way. One foot in front of the other, back and forth, every time.

He zones out so thoroughly that he’s almost, but not quite, surprised to realize he is already at his destination. He knows he’s at the end of the line because the last pitch is steep and rocky, with nothing but sky above him. There’s nowhere left to go but up, and reaching for the sky is what all fire lookouts do best.

Perhaps he expected this trail to be longer because the trail to Two Forks was. It took a full day of walking if he started incredibly early, and two days if he didn’t. He always seemed to fail to start early, except for that time with the firework idiots. This isn’t the trail to Two Forks, though.

Grian scrambles up the last portion of the trail, and sets his eyes on the prize at the end: the Thorofare lookout.

It’s not perched on a tower the way many classic lookouts are, rather it takes on a different blueprint that is common to many fire lookouts in the western US. It sits alone on top of a foundation of a heaping pile of granite rock. It doesn’t need a spiraling staircase to give it height above the trees; it’s already the highest point in the surrounding mountains.

For a random, silly moment, Grian wants to duck himself behind one of the rocks and hide. He wants to play spy for just a little while, and go back to being that unobtrusive observer in the forest that he was paid to be only weeks ago.

The lookout is fairly well kept. The siding has been painted recently, but the shingles are a little messed up, likely from the hail they’d received earlier in the summer. Grian smiles to himself, just slightly. That’s probably not something Scar can fix for himself, and it’s probably driving him crazy. He clearly cares a lot about keeping the building and its surroundings looking nice.

He should just…go to the door and knock, like a normal person.

He doesn’t. He just hangs back.

He’s not entirely sure why. Scar seems, by every encounter he’s ever had with him, an objectively friendly person. Perhaps even too friendly—a person who was willing to put up with Grian’s relentless, doomed quest and offer total support. And maybe that’s why he’s scared: because it’s always easier to reveal your whole soul anonymously, but putting a face to it is final.

He has to do this, though.

He rolls his shoulders, adjusting the weight of the pack—a new one—and anticipates dropping it at the door. Then, he steps out from behind the rock, walks to the door, and knocks on it.

There is an immediate yelp of shock from inside the cabin followed by the sound of something clearly being dropped, which Grian can’t help but snicker at.

“I’m uh, I’m—coming!” Scar says, with a hint of sing-song on the final word. Grian is struck by how clear his voice sounds, without the interference of many miles between them. Of course it would be, but still. He sounds just slightly different.

A second later the door is flung open, and Scar is there, right in front of him, leaning a little on the door frame. Standing there, right in front of him.

He’s taller than Grian, which he knew to expect but is still mildly annoyed by. He somehow looks nothing like, and exactly like, what Grian expected him to. His hair is light brown, and needs a good combing. It’s a little long in the back, since it’s probably been weeks or months since Scar got it trimmed. His eyes are green, and they contain just a touch of cockiness. He’s smiling at Grian, all bright teeth and good cheer, and the facial expression tugs slightly at a scar under his eye. That had been caused in the accident, if Grian recalls correctly.

“Well, hello there,” Scar says. “You startled me a little back there! We don’t get very many visitors to this fine establishment, but welcome! I’m the one who staffs this here Thorofare Lookout, so what can I help ya with?”

And Grian, embarrassingly, just stares at him.

The moment extends for an amount of time that is just edging into uncomfortableness. Grian can see it in the way Scar’s smile freezes a little on his face, like he’s gone from being genuinely friendly to just holding the expression in place for some weirdo tourist who has decided to come bother him out in the middle of nowhere.

Grian shakes his head, lifting himself out of the moment and back into reality. “Sorry,” he mutters quietly. “Sorry about that, I’m just—” He stops. Then, he extends his hand. “Hi Scar, I’m Grian.”

It’s Scar’s turn to stare now. The smile on his face melts away in shock, and his gaze flickers across Grian, giving him a once over. It makes Grian want to shrink back some in shyness.

Then he accepts Grian’s extended hand, and in one fluid motion uses it to yank him into a hug instead. It’s soft and warm.

Grian somehow didn't expect that, although he's probably received more hugs in the past two months than in the last two years, so this one shouldn't be that much of a surprise. It feels more important though, like it's communicating something left unsaid between them all summer.

"You had me so worried," Scar says to the top of Grian's head.

They pull away. Grian smiles sadly. "Sorry about that."

"What are you doing here?" Scar says.

“Ouch. Not even a hello?”

“Hi Grian,” Scar says, and immediately tacks on: “So what are you doing here? Not that—not that I don't appreciate it of course! You know, I just didn't expect—"

"I thought I'd come for a visit," he says. Then he adds, amused, "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!"

Grian steps into the lookout, and it's organized chaos. He gets the distinct sense that Scar has too many belongings for such a small space, and that he has at the same time put great effort into decorating and turning it into a little home. The interior layout mostly matches his tower, with a few differences like the bed being in a different corner. There’s a notebook on the floor, which Scar quickly snatches and replaces it on the desk. That must have been what he dropped earlier when Grian knocked.

“Guess you weren’t expecting visitors?” he says.

Scar laughs. “No! You scared me!”

“Yeah, I was never expecting any hikers either,” Grian says. “I got visitors…just a few times? I think? And the one time I didn’t even see them coming, they just made it all the way up to the catwalk and knocked on the window.”

“Oh, that’s not even a bad one,” Scar says. “Once I had a hiker come in really late at night. So I just woke up to seeing a person literally trying to open the door in the dark. I thought I was gonna get robbed, or murdered, or—”

“Now I know how I should scare you next time,” Grian says, and Scar swats his arm.

“I think a lot of people don’t realize it’s inhabited,” Scar says. “Like, they think the cabin is empty so they get all the way up here and don’t realize someone’s there? I ended up letting that person crash on the floor in their sleeping bag. After I finished having a heart attack!”

“There aren’t many left that are still used, are there?” Grian asks.

Scar looks away a bit, eyes flitting over to the window by the desk where the mountains lay beyond, the ones he’s known for years. “Less each year,” he says. “I always wonder if each year’s my last one. Two Forks went inactive for several seasons. It’s just this year, after all those Yellowstone fires, that they hired more people. Like you!”

“But that funding won’t last.”

Scar shrugs. “They’ll forget about it again once the public forgets about it. Or once a new administration wants to do some cost-cutting and wonders why they’re paying so many people to go do nothing all day.”

Grian makes a noise of agreement. It goes without saying, of course, that the job isn’t only nothing. It’s a lot of nothing right up until sometimes it’s suddenly a lot of something. After that it’s hours of overtime, maps, math, weather, radio chatter, and monitoring fire.

It only took the briefest introduction to the job for Grian to realize it was like stepping into another world, and not one that would last for much longer. Manned lookouts would continue to have some advantages, of course. He and Scar could be a 24/7 relay to firefighters if needed. The job may not ever fully go away. But the more that things like satellites could be relied on, the less people they’d need to cover these vast networks of forest.

The wind whistles outside of the windows as they stand there. The sun’s angle throws little warm squares of light through the windows, checkering the floor of the cabin. It’s later in the year now, and the days are getting shorter. It’s still warm out during the day, but the lows at night are starting to get below freezing again. Scar won’t be asked to come back after October 1st, unless a really large fire breaks out again. There’s limited days left in this cabin.

The strangest part of it all is that they’re standing here together. He keeps throwing stray glances at Scar, hoping he won’t notice, as if he’s trying to verify that he’s really standing there.

Grian changes the subject slightly. “Do you have room for me to sleep tonight? Or is that offer only open to potential thieves in the night?”

Scar pretends to deliberate on this for a second. “Nah, I’m gonna make you sleep in a tent. On the rocks. In the wind! And the cold!”

“Rude,” Grian says. “Is this how you always treat your fri—guests?”

He backs out of the word at the last minute. It’s silly. Part of him wonders, though, if he messed up his chance with Scar. If he was too hurtful, or weird, or difficult to deal with. If it was easier to talk with him long-distance and not worth it face-to-face.

It doesn’t escape Scar’s notice. “Well,” he says, drawing the word out. “I guess I could make an exception for making sure a friend doesn’t freeze to death.”

“How could I ever expect to live up to that kind of hospitality,” he deadpans in return, matching Scar’s sarcasm even as tension trickles out of his shoulders.

They were both joking, of course, but Grian had packed his bag with everything he needed in case he got rejected. He’d been willing to sleep outside. Jimmy told him that was stupid, because there was no way Scar wouldn’t let him stay with him. Grian told him that may be true, but he was never going to set out on a hiking trail again without all his gear regardless. Jimmy got quiet after that and agreed.

“Maybe I’ll just make you do some chores,” Scar says. “Hey, I have an extra pair of binoculars—”

And like that, the ice is broken.

»»———-　　———-««

Hours later, it’s dark out.

They spend a pleasant afternoon and evening together, talking mostly about nothing at all. Intentionally talking about nothing at all, really. Grian guides them away each time the conversation turns, and Scar lets him like he doesn’t even notice.

Scar is an even better storyteller in person—for the first time, Grian’s able to see how he stops what he’s doing to pour every ounce of attention into his words. Scar fills him in on everything that’s happened since July.

“You know it’s a lot more boring without you, you know,” Scar says. “The replacement lookout didn’t dramatically steal anything? Jump out any windows?” “Not a single one, G-man!” he cries. “I mean really, how’s a man supposed to find any other entertainment out here? Nice lady, though. But she didn’t want to talk to me, she just told me she wanted to do her job. I think our supervisor might have warned her off me.” “You’re a bad influence,” Grian says. “I don’t blame her.” “I’ll have you know, I was rated Most Wholesome in high school.” “That did not happen. I don’t even think that’s even a real thing.”

He receives a mini tour of the lookout. It’s not a long tour because there isn’t much to see, but Grian pays rapt attention anyway. Scar tells him about his efforts to paint the siding earlier in the summer, and specifically the way someone had come specially to deliver him those supplies twice because it was the wrong product the first time.

He points out landmarks through the windows, and Grian gets to see some of the same mountains he spent so long watching from a new vantage point. He looks at the sunny south faces of all the mountains that were north of Two Forks tower.

There’s another new feature in the cabin that Scar has added, in the form of a high shelf above the windows and close to the ceiling.

“I built that so I could dry paintings without Jellie stepping all over them when they were wet,” Scar tells him after he catches Grian eyeing it. “How’d that work out for you?” he asks. “It’s the only place she wants to sleep now!” Scar groans. "Cats like high places, you know. Wait, is she around here? I haven’t seen her at all! I'd like to meet her." "I knew you'd be more excited to see my cat than me," Scar mutters. “She’s probably hiding under the bed.” Grian kneels on the floor and peers under the bed. Deep in the shadows in the corner, a pair of bright eyes look back at him, regarding him with suspicion. Her eyes are the same color as Scar's. He watches her for a moment, but she does not make any effort to come closer. He silently vows that he will manage to pet her before he leaves.

Scar also gives him a short demonstration of some of the paintings he’s made this year. He has a sketchbook full of little things—the trees further down the hill, an undulating column of smoke with all its curves, and a delightful series of cat sketches. There are some pages where Scar skips past quickly and refuses to show Grian. When he catches a glimpse of one, the drawings look just as good as the others, so Grian remains unsure what exactly was wrong with them.

Just as impressive are his oils and watercolors. He’s made a bunch this summer—Scar claims it’s actually bad because he’s done less than usual, which Grian can’t really comprehend—and most of them are small studies.

“I want to capture more movement and texture and color and life,” Scar tells him. “The smaller pieces of paper make it so that I can’t get too hung up on details!” Grian nods along. “The Impressionists did that, you know,” Scar starts, and Grian gratefully settles back in to listen to another tangent while he thumbs through little brightly painted cards, each one more impressive than the last.

Now it’s getting late, and they’re sitting out on the catwalk together, backs against the cabin. There’s a very cold bite to the air, but the stars are pretty regardless. No clouds at all tonight, in fact, and a waning moon shining gently. The lights in the lookout are turned off, and as his eyes adjust he can start to see the outlines of the distant mountains.

Grian has two cans of beer he picked up at a gas station somewhere along the way, and gives one to Scar. It’s not a brand he recognizes, so maybe it’s from some local or state-specific brewery. Scar brings a blanket out on the deck for each of them. The cold air seeps up between the cracks in the boards they’re sitting on, but he’s cozy nonetheless.

“I wish you could’ve been down here back when the meteor shower was going,” Scar says.

“Meteor shower?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, I don’t know. Every year at the end of summer. It’s nice to be out here ‘cause you can see so many stars at night.”

“I bet that was nice,” Grian says. “I wish I was there.”

They lapse into silence for a few minutes, just sipping on the drinks. The stars twinkle far above him, the furthest so faint that he can hardly tell if he’s really seeing them or not. He absently wishes he learned more constellations, since he can’t recognize any right now. He’s going to miss being able to see so many stars.

When he turns to face Scar again, his expression is stormy. Grian goes still. Scar fiddles with the edge of his blanket and doesn’t meet his eye. He can’t tell if he looks angry, or just upset, but either combination of those makes his stomach turn. Grian waits though. They’ve waited long enough today.

"After all…of that," Scar starts finally, neatly sidestepping any discussion of what all of that actually was, "I didn't hear from you again. At all."

Grian lets that settle in for a moment. "I know," he responds finally. "I’m sorry. That's why I came here."

"I mean," Scar continues, voice growing stronger, "I knew you weren't dead because it was all over the radio traffic. I was monitoring the communications with the hotshot crew. I hear about—” he gestures with his hand “—all that, with the fire and helicopter. And our supervisor took pity on me and told me some of the details afterward.”

“And it was on the news.”

Grian knows the story was run on a few American and British outlets. He avoided the TV, and the paper, for a while afterward, but it doesn’t take the press long to get bored. Mumbo’s death was barely a blip in the news cycle. It was a dramatic story, but not that dramatic. It doesn’t matter if it will haunt Grian for the rest of his life; the average person wouldn’t remember reading about it after a week. “Missing British Expat Found Dead in American Wilderness One Year Later.” He grimaces even at the mere thought of it.

“That too. Not that I get much of that up here.” His voice is clipped. Hurt. With good reason, really, but—

Truthfully, Grian didn’t quite think to contact Scar until later. Everything after he was evacuated from the forest was a blur of activity that made his head spin, and he wasn’t in the best of shape at the time. The helicopter had taken him directly to the hospital in town, and they’d kept him for three days. They evaluated his ankle, which was only a grade 1 sprain that had been aggravated by his constant movement. They treated him for severe dehydration. They evaluated his lungs and airways. Mostly, though, they focused on his burns.

Grian was lucky, all things considered, regardless of if he felt that way or not. He lived when he could have very easily died. He’d been in a rocky area that burned fast and had little tinder, with the boulder next to him to act as a heat sink. He’d been stuck in a finger of the fire near the edge, so it had burned over quickly. He hadn't ever caught on fire himself. He’d kept his nose and mouth protected and close to the ground. His clothing had protected most of his body, but wearing a t-shirt meant his arms had been bare and he’d used his hands to cover his head. They fared the worst.

Grian thought the hand was perhaps the most annoying place to receive a burn, with the painful way he struggled to do anything, especially writing, for a few weeks. But it hadn’t been very severe. It could have been worse. He got to go home, and monitor his recovery from there.

He answered a million questions over the days following the incident. He spoke to rangers, search and rescue, fire crew members, and the police. He was scolded for stealing documents, but the words held little bite or legal weight. They had other copies available, after all. They asked him to pay a small fine. The rangers’ eyes looked sympathetic. Perhaps they felt he suffered enough, or perhaps it was the fact that this confrontation took place in the hospital room.

He called Mumbo’s parents again the morning after he woke up again.

And then when he sat in the hospital on the second night, waiting for Mumbo’s parents and his own mum to arrive, he pulled out his radio again and charged it. Once it came back on though, he realized it couldn’t do anything for him anymore. It was still set to the frequency he and Scar always spoke on, but now there were new voices speaking on it.

Of course they didn’t own the frequency, it was just a national talk frequency. They’d always just carved privacy out of the sheer remoteness surrounding them. Now, he was simply too far out of that limited range and was picking up more nearby conversations instead.

“I’m sorry,” Grian says. “I didn’t have a radio to reach you with. It was out of range as soon as I left the forest.”

“I have a phone.”

“I didn’t know the number,” he says after a moment. They’d only ever spoken over the radio when he was a lookout. Then, he tacks on jokingly: “I also don’t really think the agency wants to foot the bill for international calls.”

Scar scrunches his eyes shut for just a moment. “It hurt a lot,” he says. “That day—when I think of it, it’s so….I just—I was just worried about you. I was…”

“Scared?” Grian offers.

Scar nods, and Grian feels something horrible wash over him, a guilt that makes him want to walk straight off the catwalk into the dark. He tries to place himself there for a moment, on that evening, but this time from the inside of this lookout. Scar could see the fire from his tower. He’d been desperately trying to save him with no way to interfere on his own. Helpless. He listened to Grian say things. Worrying things. He saw the fire’s movement, where it spread, and how fast it spread.

When Grian’s radio died, he must have felt like he was watching him die.

“It’s okay,” he says, speaking all in a rush. “It’s okay, I—I’m fine. See? I got out of there, and now I’m here. I’m sorry, I came to say I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

Scar tilts his head skeptically. “Are you? Because…”

Suddenly, Grian’s eyes well up with tears. The mere question is enough to crack his veneer of coping. He casts his eyes away and blinks fast, trying to keep them at bay. Scar has heard him cry, but never seen him cry, which is somehow more embarrassing.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think I really am.”

Scar doesn’t ask him any questions, he just puts his arm around him. The warm weight of it grounds him like a comfort. For every time Grian was convinced he could do it all by himself, there was another time that he just wanted it to be like this: a person who cares. He ducks his head down, and lets the tears drip across his cheeks and into his lap. He isn’t sobbing; it’s a quiet cry.

Eventually, he simply whispers, “I’m just so tired.”

“I get that,” Scar agrees.

“Everything’s just…too much,” he says. “I’m—”

One step from losing it all?

One missed breath from drowning?

“It just feels like the beginning again,” he finishes instead.

“The beginning?” Scar inquires.

“Like I haven’t figured it out. But last time I had hope, I guess. I thought it could be fixed. It hurt but I thought it could still work out in the end. I need it to work out and be okay. And now it can’t. It’s not ever going to be okay. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

There are lows Grian has felt in the last few weeks that he doesn’t want to share with anyone. That’s part of the problem, though. His life is everyone’s concern now and he’s being treated like glass by all his friends. They mean well, of course. They may even be wise for it. But people know what happened. They just can’t know how it felt.

He tries to remember they’re upset too. They’re also grieving. But they’re not the ones who have to leave the kitchen in a panic for a bit of fresh air whenever something burns in the oven.

He wants nothing more than to be left alone. He knows what it’s like to be alone after this year, and it’s familiar. And yet, he also wants nothing more than this—to be hugged, and comforted, by someone else who can do a little reasoning for him.

It’s hard to feel like anything matters right now. He dedicated all his time to finding Mumbo. He shaped his ideas, his time, and his relationships with people around the belief that Mumbo was alive—and was wrong. So what’s the point? Where’s he supposed to go now? What’s he supposed to do?

He doesn’t know.

Scar hugs him a little closer. “It’s not okay. It won’t be. But maybe eventually you’ll start filling in things around it.”

“Like you did?” Grian says, a little sharper than intended. “Isolating yourself for years in the middle of nowhere? That didn’t work for me, in case you didn’t notice.”

“No,” he responds slowly, “like I did by being reminded of the good memories, picking up art, getting a cat, trying new jobs, looking at pretty sunsets, and meeting new friends. See! Small steps first.” He lets go of Grian, and pats his shoulder. “You can do it.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Grian says.

“I kind of think you do.”

“I don’t though,” he says sourly, “because I—I already do, and I hate it. Sometimes I feel relieved. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be relieved. My friend is dead.”

“Why’re you relieved?” Scar asks.

“Because—because it’s just. Over, maybe. Because I finally know the answers. Because it’s horrible but at least I don’t have to wonder anymore.”

The what-ifs used to plague him constantly. They were an ever-changing carousel of worst case scenarios that danced around his head. Now, something different plagues him. But the truth doesn’t change. It just is.

“Hm.” Scar pauses for a second. “Well, you figured out what happened. You found him. You can put it to rest now. It’s okay to do that.”

“But—”

Scar interrupts. “You’re not forgetting him, you know? That’s not what it means to move on. There’s a lot of people out there who don’t have anyone to believe in them. Mumbo had you. And you did good.”

And Grian doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t. He just sits there and lets the thought swirl around and around his head. Scar lets him. The two don’t speak.

He did good. Did he?

It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel good to be hell-bent on saving your best friend only to find his body. It doesn’t feel good to fail so thoroughly from the goal you set. It doesn’t feel good to be the only one left in something that was special. He has so many memories with Mumbo. Now he’s their sole keeper, the only one left to carry that knowledge.

But he did succeed, in a way. Mumbo might have been lost forever out there. Some people never do get found. He brought Mumbo home, back to his family, and back to a place with respect. Where he could be buried.

He breaks it down in his mind, over and over, like maybe he can polish away all the sharp edges like a rock in the river. Maybe it’s okay to let the sharp edges go away. The heavy weight of it remains. Maybe it doesn’t have to cut his hands every time, though.

Eventually he takes a deep breath and sits back up.

“Sorry about all that,” he mutters, as he hastily wipes the tears from his eyes.

“No,” Scar says.

“No?”

“Don’t say that, don’t apologize for crying. It’s okay!” Scar says. “If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t help you more back then, or—”

“No,” Grian says this time.

“Oh,” Scar says. “No?”

“No,” he repeats.

“Okay.”

“So that’s out of the way, then,” Grian says, breaking into a watery half smile. “No more apologies.”

“I guess so,” Scar says.

Grian sighs. “I just don’t know what to do now. What do I do next? You…you managed to do it.”

Finding Mumbo was a year-long priority. Without it, he can’t seem to figure out the structure of his life. He never thought this far ahead. He only thought about what it would be like when it was all okay—not about what he planned to do when it wasn’t okay. Now he’s falling through his own cracks.

“That’s an easy one,” Scar says. “You’ve got a lot of houses to draw!”

“We call it drafting.”

“Drafting then,” Scar nods. “Go forth and draft some buildings.”

Grian tips his head back, looking at the stars. “I don’t know if I want to do that anymore.”

“Oh! You don’t have to,” Scar says. “I know you liked the job, but you don’t have to go back to it. You can do something else too. You can do whatever. Or even nothing.”

“I don’t want to do anything else, that’s the problem,” Grian says. “I just—ugh.”

He still likes architecture. He literally can’t turn it off in his brain, the way his eyes catch on the details of buildings when he travels past them, equal in praise and criticism for it. He doesn’t know if he has a place in that career anymore, though. Maybe he can’t do it anymore. Maybe he doesn’t remember how.

“You have time to figure it out. You even have the rest of your life to keep trying things out!” Scar says. “Why do you think I’m always seeing new places and doing these seasonal jobs? And if you want to go back to it you can. It doesn’t have to be now though. It can be whenever.”

For the first time in a long time, Grian feels a little spark of something about his future. It’s a little flame and it will need to be nurtured. He cups it close in his mind, trying to peer through its light. There’s no plan, just a glimmer of something that doesn’t sound too bad.

Every time he thinks about what to do next, he’s locked in decision paralysis. Mostly, he just wants to sleep and not have to deal with it. He has already tried that method, and while it doesn’t work well, it does eliminate the thoughts temporarily. The nothingness is comforting, even though he never feels better afterward. He wants this to all go away, but day after day since Mumbo first went missing that has been proven impossible.

But sometimes one of his friends comes along to drag him out of his room and onto the streets of London, and more times than not he finds himself enjoying it. He finds himself, even for just a moment, living in that reality instead. Is it so bad, to want that a little?

Like it always does, the guilt comes stalking back in behind the thought. He lived, Mumbo did not. Mumbo deserved to live. Grian did nothing spectacular, nothing out of the ordinary, to deserve to have this life that was robbed from his friend. It eats at him, cutting holes in the very fabric of his being. He lets the thought settle in the corner of his mind, like he always does, but he doesn’t dismiss the hope either. Not this time. He holds them both at once.

Then, his thoughts are interrupted by gentle, tentative paw steps on the edge of the blanket.

“Oh my goodness,” Scar says. “Jellie finally decided to come say hi!”

Grian watches her carefully from the corner of his eye, and dares not move an inch. Scar had left the door cracked when they came out here on the catwalk, so Jellie must have decided to explore a little. And now she’s slowly crawling over toward him. She’s a classic gray tabby cat with a white chest, paws, and blaze. She sniffs Grian’s hand with great contemplation, before carefully stepping over his arm and sitting on his lap.

“Oh!” he exclaims softly.

Scar silently fist-bumps the air. “Yes!” he says. “She likes you! I knew she would!”

“Can I pet her?”

“Of course,” Scar says. “That’s why she’s on your lap! Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out if she doesn’t want to be pet anymore.”

“By biting me, I’m sure.”

“Uh,” he says, “no comment.”

Grian gently strokes the striped fur along her back. It’s soft and short. It’s been a while since he owned his own cat, but he likes them. He wanted to get one, but their apartment in Denver hadn’t allowed animals, so the last cat he had was one back in England that passed away while he was in university. Maybe he’ll get a new cat when he goes back. Jellie is a dignified cat, the type of animal who looks at you and possesses an uncanny type of intelligence in their eyes. He honestly feels honored that she decided she liked him enough to sleep on his lap.

After a moment, she starts to purr.

Scar is watching the two of them with a funny look on his face. Or rather, after a moment, Grian realizes that Scar is actually watching his hands.

“You got burned,” he says, like he’s only just now noticing it.

His hands still. The second-degree burns had already healed in the weeks since the fire, but the skin on the back of his hand was still pink and patchy-looking. Healed, but only just, with the potential of any long-term scarring still up in the air. Jellie senses that he’s stopped petting her, and moves her head to push his hand until he resumes the motion. He does. Demanding cat.

“Yeah,” Grian responds simply.

Scar puts his head in his hands. “I should have directed you better—if I knew better, or—then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt—”

“Hey, no,” Grian says. “That was…that was all me, Scar. I got into that situation myself. I was…I probably would have stayed put if it weren’t for you, honestly. You saved me.”

Scar looks up again. “Really?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t have got out of there,” he says softly. “And, really, I would have never found Mumbo if it weren’t for your help. Thank you for that. I know I…got mad at you, that day, but really. I, uh, do mean it. Thank you.”

“Oh,” Scar says. “That was—something I couldn’t imagine not doing.” He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. Grian for once can see this in the expression on his face, rather than the silence through the radio. He waits. Finally Scar asks: “Did they—did they ever find out what happened?”

That’s the big question, isn’t it? That’s been the big question this whole time. And for all the effort that Grian went to in order to find Mumbo, it wasn’t one he could fully answer on his own. That was for the rangers and the medical examiner.

He begins, “They found him, based on your map skills I’m sure. Um, recovered his body. Made a real identification. Not that I—not that I was going to be wrong. I just knew. They used dental records I think.”

He keeps petting Jellie.

“They don’t just—they don’t just send him home right away. They had to figure out what happened first. For his death certificate. Or maybe their records. Or maybe for us. But they did an autopsy—which was part of the identification I think.”

“What’d it say?” Scar asks.

It’s a long moment before Grian responds. “He probably died of dehydration. Which meant it probably only took a few days. They don’t think he had any water on him. They think maybe he’d been headed to the creek—” like I was, but he doesn’t say it. He continues. “He had a fracture in his leg. They think that’s why he was stuck there.”

“Awful,” Scar says softly.

“He was probably dead before the first week of the search was done.” Grian shakes his head sharply to dispel the thought. “Anyway, uh. They flew him back to England. We buried him. Had a funeral. It was really nice, actually.”

There was just so much happening at the funeral that it’s a blur in his mind. He was still receiving treatment for his burns and had everything wrapped. He was still having trouble sleeping. He felt like a shell of a fake person being forced to interact with the real people. The funeral was wonderful, affirming, and full of people he hadn’t seen in years. People who’d loved Mumbo, too. But it was also deeply overwhelming.

“You were in England this whole time then?” Scar says. “‘Cause you said something about international calls earlier.”

Grian nods. “Yeah. I went back a week after all of it happened. Stayed there, with my family.”

“But you came back here.”

“I had to,” he says, trying to force some brightness into his words. “Couldn’t just leave you all alone without saying goodbye.”

Scar reaches out a hand, and scratches Jellie under the chin. She purrs harder. He says, “Why’s it have to be goodbye?”

“Scar.”

“I know,” he says miserably. “I know.”

This isn’t his home, and it especially isn’t without Mumbo. Grian had followed him here, and now that he was gone, there wasn’t any reason to stay. Well—not a good reason. He’d be lying if he said this wasn’t breaking his heart too.

“I have things I have to wrap up here,” Grian says. “Stuff like our apartment. Those things need to be packed up and shipped back. And I need to sell my car. It’s all tedious stuff. Two of my other friends came with me to help me so I didn’t have to do it all by myself.”

“Your friends came? And you didn’t bring them to meet me?” Scar says in an exaggeratedly scandalized tone.

Grian smiles a little, and looks over at Scar. “It was private.”

He’d left Jimmy and Martyn in a cabin just outside of town. They’d been gracious enough to allow him to take a detour on their trip just to come here. None of his friends were very keen on questioning him these past few weeks. Sometimes he hated it, and wished they just treated him normally. Other times he was grateful they spared him any need to explain.

Then, he abruptly remembers. “Wait,” he says. “I had something for you. I would get it but…” He gestures at Jellie, who is not planning on letting him stand up any time soon.

“You’re cat-trapped,” Scar says. “Where is it?”

“The outer pocket of my bag. It’s a piece of paper.” Then he adds, “Don’t look at it until you get back out here!”

Scar steps gently over Grian, and disappears into the lookout for a moment. It’s dark and silent outside, except for the constant purr from Jellie that seems to radiate through his body. Then, just as fast, Scar is back and settling back down onto the catwalk boards. In his hand is a battered piece of yellow lined paper, singed on one edge.

“You can unfold it now,” Grian says, and Scar does.

He has to squint to appreciate it in the dim moonlight, but once he sees it recognition snaps across his face like lightning.

“This is my lookout,” Scar says, and then turns to look at Grian with wide eyes. “Wait, you actually drew it when I said so.”

Grian’s face heats up, and he glances away. “I…thought that maybe you should have it. As a thank you.”

“I love it,” Scar says. “It looks amazing.”

“Sorry it isn’t in better condition,” he says. “It was in my bag that got left behind. The rangers retrieved it along with…they mailed the stuff they found back to me, afterward. So I brought it here to you.”

“I think it’s in perfect condition,” Scar says. “It makes it real.” Then, he beams. “I’m going to hang this in the cabin. Frame it, maybe.”

Grian groans. “It isn’t that good,” he says.

“It should be on display!”

“Please, no,” Grian says.

“I guess you’ll just have to come again next year so I can prove you wrong. You won’t know what hit you when you see how good this looks framed,” Scar declares. Then he adds, softer. “You can come again, you know. You can always come back.”

“I’ll come back. I hope so,” Grian says. “After all, I’ve got the rest of my life to do it.”

»»———-　　———-««

Grian leaves the lookout the next morning, a little before midday. The day is bright and sunny and cloudless. In his bag are two new items: a pair of rolled up mini paintings, and Scar’s contact information penciled on a piece of paper.

He walks forward, one foot in front of the other, just like always.

<< Chapter Eleven | Masterpost

#hc_firewatch_au

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years ago

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Cool, Can I request a bill (aka roman godfrey) x reader, they got married through arranged marriage he doesn’t like her at first, but she keeps trying to seduce him and be like “let’s consummate our marriage”, and like whisper dirty shit into his ear while they’re not alone or whatever, so he has to put her wrongdoings to an end (smutty smut) we’re all thirsty…so yeah feel free to change the plot, and I hope you recover soon beautiful ❤️Thank u in advance.🥺 I suck at explaining tho..haha

Hello, doll. Thanks for the request! I'm feeling much better now, but I thank you for your kind words ❤️ +

For the first three weeks since the elopement, Roman regarded her as an inconvenience, a bail term with an attractive value, not a woman with emotions. She came with bank accounts, liquid stock, high-profile status, a life preserver for the company his father had built that he had subsequently driven to near ruin. The marriage was simply that—a way to dig Godfrey Industries out of financial turmoil. Nothing more.

Roman never considered marriage. No matter how clean-cut, financially stable and attractive, nobody could ever tempt Roman into joining his assets. There were too many people, and the prospect of being with but one of them forever was ludicrous. Yet, he had found himself shackled all the same.

She was quiet at first and stayed out of his way. This, Roman accepted. They had separate rooms and separate lives, and that's how Roman intended it to remain. But they were bound to cross paths at some point, and when he found himself occupying the same space as his new wife, he did his best to act like she wasn't there. And she accepted this behaviour at first, knowing Roman Godfrey hadn't requested her presence in his life, and in fact, made it clear he wished for quite the opposite.

She made the best of it.

Until he had to make requests, she stayed out of his way, and when he finally came to her with his hands open, she wielded a type of power of which he had no command.

"If you need the money, well, you'll have to make an honest woman out of me," she said.

Roman sneered. "Never fucking mind then."

He stormed out of her office, annexed in the most unused wing of the house. She smiled in his fresh absence, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. She knew he'd be back.

A week went by, and Roman's deadline approached fast. He needed to pour a million into a project to help Godfrey Industries progress, a classic case of having to spend money to make money. Without access to her funds, Roman had no hope of seeing the project to completion. He returned to her with new terms.

"Look, the reason why we married was to keep this business alive—a business that's now forty-nine percent yours. If you have any sense, you'll write me a check and spare me the attempts at seduction."

"If you have any sense, you'll treat me like a wife instead of acting like a snivelling money-grubbing worm. You're Roman Godfrey, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Then fucking act like it."

"This is a partnership, not a romance. Don't get it twisted. If I fuck you, your emotions will get the best of you. We should keep this professional since we both know neither of us like each other," said Roman.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Godfrey. I like you a great deal. Otherwise, why would I volunteer to help your failing little business?"

"So far, you haven't helped with shit."

"You haven't held up your end of the deal."

"Am I your husband or a prostitute? You want to pay me to fuck you, is that it?"

"What other use do you have? Because it's certainly not being a provider. As far as I can see, you're a bankrupt cock on legs. You should be kissing my feet."

"Fuck you!" Roman said.

"There's the attitude that's gotten you so far in this business. Let me know how that works out for you."

With his pride coming apart piece by piece, Roman left again to throw a fit in private. He couldn't let her see him clench his fists, grind his teeth and put holes in the walls. Doing so would only solidify her superiority over him, which was already glaringly apparent.

Roman lied to his partners; told them he had the money ready. He let the facade go on until he and his new wife were invited to a dinner party. She had intercepted the invitation first and made a game out of dressing up in her finest gown and choosing a suit for Roman. Despite his displeasure, he hoped playing along with her little amusements would give him another opening to ask for the money or for their partners to bring up the subject, obligating her to cough up the finances in question.

And the dinner was a hit...For her. She was charming and elegant, and the partners and their wives all fawned over her. They barely paid any attention to Roman, who was only three cocktails deep in a silent depression and missing the questions aimed at him. Once in a while, she would lean over and whisper how great he looked in his ear and that he should smile more for their friends. Roman ignored her, inched his chair away, and pushed her hand off his thigh. She expected him to drink much more, and by the end of the night, after a round of dark chocolate pavlova, Roman was almost entirely sober.

They left the restaurant, Roman walking next to her without a peep of displeasure as she regaled him with plans for the future that had yet to reach the budding stage. This drove him to the breaking point—her smugness and presumptions, her audacity and ability to make others fall in love with her—and he grabbed her arm, pushing her against the brick wall at the side of the building.

"You're way too cocky for your own good," Roman said, his bulk squeezing the air from her chest.

"Some might say the same about you."

"Well, I'm saying it now. You made me look like a fool."

"You did that yourself. What's your problem, anyway? Does my prowess hurt your little ego? Can't stand that people like me more than you?"

In the dimness of the night, her wide eyes caught the full moon and badgered him. The diamonds dangling from her ears and neck—jewelry she had purchased herself—reminded him of all his inadequacies. In truth, Roman hated how effortless she was, that her life had come so painlessly into place while he had suffered the humiliation of financial tabloids tearing him apart and praising her. He hated that the best part of him was now a woman he barely knew. She shifted her hand between them and felt around for his partial hardness.

"Am I ugly to you, Roman?"

"No. And don't ask stupid questions. You know you're not ugly."

"Then why won't you fuck me?"

"Because I'm not ready to admit I failed."

"You didn't fail. Not yet. But, if you chase me away, you might get a taste of that failure looming over your head."

Roman touched her neck, thumb sliding up and down the column of her throat. "Maybe you're right."

"I can make your life easy if you let me."

Roman lifted her leg without another word, parting the thigh-high slit of her gown to introduce a full hardness. He gave his permission, and she wrestled open his belt to pull his length from its confines.

"I didn't wear panties," she whispered. "I had a feeling you'd come around tonight."

"Don't you just know everything?"

She giggled and petered off into a moan as Roman brushed two fingers between her legs. Velvety wetness greeted him, and he pursued it farther, parting her folds and tucking his middle finger inside of her.

"This what you want?"

"Yes, Mr. Godfrey. All I need is your cock, then I'll have everything a girl could ever dream of."

Roman wheeled her toward the car and shoved her into the backseat. He climbed over her, shut the door, and pulled her shoulders free of the straps, exposing her breasts while she shimmied her skirt up. When Roman eased inside of her, his mind finally stopped dinning with anxieties and self-doubt. For the first time in a while, he felt like himself again. Inside of a beautiful woman, Roman felt safe. And though he'd never vocalize this fact, he languished in the security.

"Fuck, that's good," Roman muttered, slamming his hips forward, drawing back, and slamming forth again.

"I wish you hadn't waited so long."

"I know. I'm an idiot."

She pulled him in and kissed his lips. "Stop it. Don't talk like that."

"How would you like me to talk then?"

"Show me what Roman Godfrey's really made of."

"Yeah? You sure about that?"

"Fuck me like one of your whores."

"No," said Roman. "I'm done with that. I have a wife now."

"Do it all the same."

"Trust me... You don't want that."

Roman pulled out, grasped the base of his cock and bounced it off her clit until she begged for penetration. Like all things in life, she reached for what she wanted and angled him back inside.

"Who knew you could fix everything with your cock?" She quipped.

Their breath and mounting body heat made Roman perspire. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, then continued thrusting, musing a little about how right she was. The car tottered back and forth, and the longer he fucked her, the higher-pitched her moans became. Others left the restaurant, noticed the black luxury car rocking, and avoided the space. Roman loved their looks of disgust and sped his motions to an assaulting velocity.

"Roman, oh my god!"

"Shut up, whore."

"Oh, I like it when you bad-mouth me like that."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a fucking slut. Greedy whore with a greedy little cunt."

The insult drove her to toy between her legs, and Roman shivered from the sight. It pushed him to the edge, and with one more moan, he spilled inside of her until it leaked out all over the leather seats and her delicate dress. When she reached down to swipe up their fluid and brought it to her lips, Roman spurted once more, and somehow his hardness didn't recede. He needed another round.

"Get on your hands and knees. I'm not done with you yet."

#roman godfrey smut #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine

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erwinsvow · 4 years ago

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𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 | 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧

author's note: sorry i just cannot stop writing headcanons! it's my favorite thing to write. i really hope everyone enjoys these, they include things from these two works of mine as well :) -shea

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

very much the involved boyfriend

once you guys finally start dating, he just immediately wants you guys to merge lives and share friends, even though that’s not a simple process

but it’s really because he cares about you so deeply he doesn’t want there to be a part of his life that you’re just not involved in

therefore; very involved

you guys manage your schedules together and plan out dinners and dates in advance

he mostly really likes having something to look forward too, like time with you

the kind of boyfriend that remembers little stuff you say here and there

like if you mention your mom’s birthday is coming up, he’ll ask later what you’re getting her and suggest some ideas. probably would send your mom flowers too to earn brownie points

or if you have a stressful week with exams and papers, he’ll stop by randomly with coffee and a snack and a hug

i honestly don’t see jean as the kind of boyfriend to start/carry on a fight, because he would hate knowing that you two are upset with each other. so i think any fights would be resolved pretty quickly

if one did happen to go over night or last a few days, he would definitely apologize first and bring you flowers, even if you were the one who started it

honestly though, with a guy like jean, what is there to fight about

overall, just a super caring boyfriend that makes the little stuff the memorable stuff

𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭

the! best! boyfriend! ever!

i see armin as the ideal caring boyfriend

he just really likes to have someone to take care of, and he is also really touched that someone trusts him enough to ensure their heart to him

so he takes every measure to make sure he’s being the best partner he can be

a lot of emotional sharing, and i feel like would happen pretty early on as well

only because he is so trustworthy and you know you can tell him everything on your mind, even stuff that you maybe haven’t told anyone else

this just makes your relationship progress even further. you two are the couple that has been dating for a month but knows they are going to be together for a long time

speaking of, you are the mom and the dad of the friend group, which is so adorable but calls for a lot of teasing from your friends

but armin knows he’s going to marry you one day, so he just laughs when eren cracks another joke about it

𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

i’ll be real, this relationship is definitely not the easiest

reiner definitely loves you, don’t get me wrong, but a big part of him probably thinks he doesn’t deserve someone like you to care about him

which isn’t easy in a relationship because i feel like he would try and distance himself from getting too attached in the beginning

maybe he just thinks you’re going to see through him and realize you don’t want this anymore (which is not true at all, but just his intrusive thoughts)

i think you would try to reassure him about your feelings and how much you want this relationship, but then he feels like you shouldn’t have to reassure him, and that you shouldn’t be in the kind of relationship where you have to reassure the person. basically he thinks you deserve someone better, and you know that there is no one better for you

eventually i think this reaches a breaking point. through a lot of angst and honesty and tears, you two finally work it out

i think after clearing things up, things take a huge turn for the better

he definitely learns that there’s nothing wrong with being a relationship where you have to take care of each other, and he’s definitely thankful that you continued to stand by him

so sorry about this angst, but on the bright side, this man would be such a devoted boyfriend

his friends definitely make fun of him for looking at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky

i also think all this angst would lead to you two being really open and vulnerable with each other, which is really important to him

also definitely a mama’s boy and can’t wait to introduce you to her

just like armin, he knows you’re gonna be his wife someday

𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

even though i think it would take eren a long time to settle down and commit to a healthy, long-term relationship, once he does, he would be a great boyfriend

he is a really caring guy, and i feel like part of his hesitance is about opening up to someone if they’re just gonna leave

but i think he can tell early on that this would be different

i have a feeling his love language is quality time, and so you two are always planning little things together

he especially loves last-minute, impromptu dates that arise from a random thought

like he’ll grab two sandwiches and take you to the beach at sunset, even if you just got home or had something to get done

or knock on your door at midnight and take you to the nearest roof to stargaze together

i feel like eren is the boyfriend who becomes your closest friend over time

you guys go to each other first when you need to rant or talk or babble endlessly

it’s an interesting dynamic but it works well for you guys

the kind of bf that people assume he’s a single bachelor and will stay that way forever, or people don’t believe that he’s settled down, and then when they see you two together they’re shocked

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭

you and marco have the most wholesome relationship

if i had to picture anyone whose relationship feels like the honeymoon phase even after a whole year, it is marco

he has a habit of making every small date, every meeting or interaction just feel so special, like every day is a special occasion

the kind of boyfriend who gets you a promise ring early on with every intention of replacing it with an engagement ring and wedding band one day

a big moment for him is introducing you to his friends! he knows they’ll love you, and he just wants you to meet the other most important people in his life

especially you and jean, this boy would be on cloud nine seeing you two get along so well. makes him super happy and teary-eyed

the responsible bf who takes care of everything for you, even little, everyday things so you don’t have to worry about it

like making sure there’s a cup of water on the nightstand when you go to bed, or setting an extra alarm to make sure you don’t oversleep, or reminding you about a deadline

overall just <3 boyfriend marco

𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

the nonchalant, cool boyfriend who has to hide how sappy he actually is

pretends like he’s not nervous as all hell on your first date. acts like you leaning into him on the walk back home, or kissing his cheek at your doorstep before you say good night isn’t giving him heart palpitations.

also majorly touch-starved. after you two really open up to each other, which happens way sooner than he expected, it’s hard for him to keep his hands away from you.

he’s reserved in public, a simple arm around you waist or hands interlaced while you guys are out

but when you’re in the privacy of your home, it’s almost instinctual for him to pull you close

he loves when you lay your head on his chest, but nothing compares to when you let him lay his head on yours.

you stroke his hair and sit in silence, appreciating the quiet mumble of the television and the sound of each other breathing

always falls asleep like this, and he’s never been much of a nap guy, but ever since he met you, he’s reformed

not to mention your skin is always so warm and soft, and his is always on the colder side, so he’s just drawn to you

also i see him as the kind of guy who proposes out of nowhere, like you aren’t expecting it at all after a quiet dinner together at home, you’re getting up to grab dessert and he pulls out a ring

“how about dessert and naps for as long as we both shall live?”

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

once again, pock tries to put on a tough facade but we all know he’s just a softie on the inside

in fact, it’s a little while into your relationship that you notice him softening up with you, trying less hard to seem like someone else and getting more comfortable around you

you definitely don’t mention it, because you don’t want him to realize how you’ve been noticing it lately, but it definitely makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy at the thought of him being more himself

it’s not long at all before you can’t even see any semblance of that tough guy you met for the first time

the kind of whipped boyfriend that carries your bags when you go shopping, grabs your coffee order on the way to visit you, and likes to have quiet nights in more than going out

your favorite memories with him include watching rom-coms and munching on popcorn in his apartment, everyone else out and about on a saturday night

the leftover pizza is sitting on the counter, and you turn to go put it away when you notice pock teary-eyed at the movie!

yes, this boy cries at sappy romantic movies and you regret ever putting on the notebook that one night because you wanted to get laid after and that just did not happen because he was crying too much

but also just treats you so right and has every intention of being the best boyfriend he can, doesn’t ever want to do anything to hurt you and is highkey very glad he met you and has someone to be so open and comfortable with!

𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

can you spell boyfriend material.

the most comforting, wholesome boyfriend in the world. you actually can’t believe he’s single when you guys meet for the first time, because there’s just no way.

this is the take him home to meet your parents guy, introduce him to your friends right away guy because you know it’s serious

i talked about how bertholdt is the bf who just listens to your talks and rambles for as long as you need to, and always offers advice and sweet words, but he really does take it to the next level

lets you cry it out when you need to, rubbing your back and hair softly and not minding when his shirt is covered in tears

or alternatively lets you rant about your annoying professor or a terribly rude stranger or whatever else is plaguing your mind today

texts you every day asking how you’re doing, always calls you before bed if you guys aren’t together

he just has the ability to make you feel so heard and seen

and of course you never forget to take care of him, as well. it makes for a really comfortable dynamic.

very easy to imagine spending the rest of your life with him despite the fact that he has kicked you off the bed multiple times in his sleep

𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡

alternatively, husband material

takes all of five minutes into having a conversation with him to realize this is a responsible, mature guy

which are usually far and few between

i’d like to think he’s similar to marco in the way that he likes to make sure things are taken care for you, he likes to get things off of your shoulders even though you feel like you should be doing it for him instead

this translates to a lot of checking in phone calls, making sure you’ve eaten dinner and haven’t skipped meals because of your busy schedule

always makes time for you and especially loves having date nights every saturday, it’s wonderful when you haven’t been able to see him all week

anyways, you get engaged and married so fast bc you just had to snatch him up

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